


NYCstuck

by BatchSan



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, F/M, Gen, Growing Up, Humanstuck, M/M, Multi, No Sburb/Sgrub, Quadrant Confusion, Quadrant Vacillation, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 12:04:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 77
Words: 70,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatchSan/pseuds/BatchSan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story following 16 friends as they deal with regular urban teen stuff and attempt to navigate the pitfalls of high school and life in a big city. Nothing promises to be normal.</p><p>Will update twice a week on Sunday and Thursday.</p><p>Follow NYCstuck on Tumblr! ==> http://nycstuck.tumblr.com</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rose: Start

**Author's Note:**

> So to begin, this started out as my NaNo attempt for 2012, but it's clear at this point I won't get to 50k by the end of November, which is fine. I still have a good story going here and I hope for it to grow and be large and excellent and fun in some ways to my fellow Homestuckers.
> 
> I suppose it's silly to write yet another Highschool AU for this fandom, but I'm basing this largely on my own high school experience in NYC, while adding things I've heard happen/have seen happen to the teens of this fair city. Expect sadstuck stuff in the future, basically. Also, I actually was part of a group of roughly 16 friends (friends, not gang, please don't confuse the two - I think this story will help show the difference) and that really helped me figure out the large majority of how this story will pan out.
> 
> This is going to be told little by little, spanning over a full high school sentence, er, time span. My first attempt at making a super plotty story that will draw out things so don't expect any immediate romantic relationships (of the black or red kind, hee!). But yeah, a lot of things will be hinted early on (and some will be misleading).
> 
> Expect multiple pairings and friendships (and just overall quadrant exploration in a completely human setting)! The only two definite ones have been listed (because I have to give you guys a little bit of something, right? hee) and others are purposely being withheld to prevent spoilers. =)
> 
> There's also a tumblr dedicated to this story that will house this story and where I'll include things like art and a place for people to ask questions:
> 
> [NYCstuck](http://nycstuck.tumblr.com) (Currently a little empty but bear with me, I'll get things prettied up soon enough over there!)

** >==>Rose: Start **

(September 6th, Thursday - 07:18am)

You look out the window, watching mismatched, low-level apartment buildings and stores of all kinds and sizes fly by as the train rolls steadily ahead on it's tracks. It's stupid; really stupid that not only did you decide to go to a high school a good two to three hours by bus, bus, train, and train (in that order) away from home, but that you turned down your mother's offer to drive you there. Not that you really believed it to be sincere, just another passive-aggressive move on her part, likely to counter your decision to attend the far away high school to begin with. Too bad you are only fifteen and still another year from obtaining a permit. 

The things you do to one-up your mother. Sigh.

But you don't regret your decision. Sure it would have been easier to apply to a school near your house in College Point, or out in Long Island where your mother worked. Perhaps even close to where your mother's job was - wherever the hell she worked at. If you had to judge between her alcohol problem and her perpetual penchant for wearing a white lab coat, you would guess she either worked in a brewery, making sure the gin to tonic ratio was exact in every bottle -- and yes, you're aware that makes no sense -- or she was a pharmacist, possibly. Okay, so you liked pleading ignorance, knowing full well what your mother did for a living, but whatever. None of that matters at this moment as the train pulls into the next station and you uncross your legs and recross them the other way, stretching your back in the process as more students and adults board.

Among them, you spy a familiar face and pluck your schoolbag off the seat beside you so your long time best friend can sit with you. Jade Harley giggles and smiles a little too brightly for this ungodly time of the morning - because as far you're concerned, anytime before eleven in the morning is ungodly, and it's only seven-twenty right now. She's wearing the lime green shirt you got her for her last birthday, the one with the weird dog shaped head in white on it, and you wonder what the hell were you thinking when you picked it out in the first place because it looks better suited on a middle-schooler than on a freshman high schooler. At least she likes it, you tell yourself, and it's a sincere like too. Not like the passive-aggressive way your mother likes things, nor the ironic way your twin brother likes things.

Let's not even bring up the topic of your father.

"You look like shit," she greets with a smile.

"Thank you. I was hoping to start this school year on the proper foot and I wouldn't want to do it any other way."

"Silly girl," Jade teases. "Have you eaten yet?"

"When have you ever known me to eat breakfast at a respectable time, if at all?"

She huffs, puffing her cheeks out at you. You smirk at the way her buck teeth stick out ever so slightly and she looks much the same as she did when you were both twelve, meeting for the first time.

"I'll eat once we're in the city," you say. "Promise."

"We're going to McDonald's, aren't we?" There's a noticeable groan to Jade's voice. 

"It's the finest eating establishment teens of our age can afford, so yes."

"Er, I guess? I still rather just get a bagel from one of the street vendors."

"A bagel alone simply does not scream breakfast to me the way pancakes and hash browns do."

"You know I'm all for processed junk food, but that McDonald's breakfast stuff is an affront to the word breakfast. Why don't we get doughnuts at Dunkin Donuts or something else instead?" Jade whines slightly.

"I'm sorry, but it's McGriddles and McCoffee or nothing for me, McThanks."

Sighing in defeat, Jade slumps down into her seat and you can't help but smirk a little in victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: I dislike McDonald's breakfast. Thought it would make for a fun running joke. xD


	2. Rose: Be someone else, somewhere else

**> ==> Rose: Be someone else, somewhere else**

_(September 6th, Thursday - 07:21am)_

Smoothing your hair back with some gel, you are indeed someone else and are conveniently located somewhere else. You don't really need the gel, but it helps your hair stay in a perfect, coolkid style all day. It would hold the same without the gel, but not for as long, and that wouldn't be cool. You are all about the cool, especially today.

It's your first day of high school and you have to make sure you are extra cool and ironic to wickedly slay first impressions left and right like someone with a need to slay first impressions all day and night.

You leave the safety of your room, pausing at the doorway for a moment so you can carefully take stock of the hallway, and especially the opening at the end that leads out into the living room. Bro is always lurking about like some kind of creepy stalker, trying to keep you on your toes with his sweet ninja skills and bullshit cosplay swords. And fuck what anyone said, those fake pieces of shit hurt when they hit, as you well know from one too many firsthand experiences.

It seems the apartment is relatively Bro-free, at least for now. You don't doubt he isn't close by though, but you have enough confidence that he will probably leave you alone long enough to get your breakfast on. Two slices of bread with butter down the hatch and a bottle of apple juice later you are heading toward the front door, tucking an extra bottle of apple juice into your backpack. Gotta have something bangin' to get your drink on later on in case you get hit with thirst.

Thankfully, you have it secure inside the safety of your backpack in time to duck quickly and avoid being slammed in the head with the dull blade end of a bullshit cosplay sword. You attempt to glare at Bro but he has already darted away and it's only a subtle hint of breeze that tells you to jump toward your left as the sword almost tries to slice-bang the shit out of you again. 

Fuck this shit, it was already almost eight and you need to get your ass to Midtown ASAP. You abscond toward the front door and barely get it open and through it before you feel something slam into the back of your head - god, let that have been the hilt of his sword and not one of those creepy smuppets. Hurts too much to be a smuppet though, which is only a small comfort. Dazed, but not out of the game, you consider taking the elevator down but Bro is in one of his moods this morning and he definitely won't give you the chance to get away so scotch-free and clean. With an inner groan, you abscond to the stairs and clomp down them without a moment's hesitation. There are several clangs behind you, one against the heavy staircase door, likely as Bro slams through it after your ass, and at least two against the metal handrail somewhere behind you. 

Crazy motherfucker. Bro was the biggest idiot this side of Alphabet City. 

You hear your phone start dropping some sick beats as you run, but you're a little preoccupied to answer it right now, what with trying to keep your cool self unbruised and all. When you hit the ground floor and sprint out into warm rays of the sun, you relax. Bro is crazy but he isn't stupid enough to openly chase you through the streets of Manhattan with a fake sword. Someone would call the cops and ACS faster than a chick dropping it like it was hot in a club full of horny guys with shitty grills and their rent money burning a hole in their pockets. Straightening yourself out as if you didn't just run down twenty-five flights of stairs, you proceed to the nearest subway entrance, pulling out your phone to see who texted you.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 07:54am --

TT: Did you make it out okay?  
TT: I think it safe to say the answer is either no or unknown.  
TG: bro tried to chop up my ass like a christmas ham   
TG: but i got away  
TG: my ass is nowhere to be found though  
TG: probably still trying to catch up with me  
TG: or hiding from a smuppet  
TG: if you see it let it know daddys worried about it  
TG: how did you do this morning?  
TG: probably better than me  
TT: Mom didn't seem pleased when I turned down her gracious offer to drive me to school.  
TT: She did ensure I had exact change for transportation and a detailed map to ensure I wouldn't become lost.  
TT: Sadly it was last minute notice, so I've yet to repay her in kind.   
TG: more of that passive-agressive shit from her huh  
TG: at least she didn't conk you in the head with a shitty cosplay sword on your way out   
TT: No, I can't say that she did. Undoubtedly, her weapon of choice would probably be a bottle of vodka anyhow.  
TT: Jade says hi.   
TG: tell her sup  
TG: hopefully youre both not still on the train  
TG: i guess not if youre texting me right now  
TG: but still  
TG: that shit would suck   
TT: Indubitably. Luckily, we're partaking of breakfast at the finest establishment affordable to those our age.   
TG: oh shit mickey ds???   
TT: Indeed.   
TG: their breakfast is so bad its ironic  
TG: its one of my favorite things to chow on  
TG: have a mcgriddle in my honor   
TT: Already ahead of you.   
TG: sweet  
TG: gonna let you go now  
TG: i hear the train coming   
TT: Enjoy your first day of high school, Dave.   
TG: you too sis  
TG: jade too  
TT: Thanks.  
TT: :-)

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased being pestered by tentacleTherapist [TT] \--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tumblr is up and a-go! Any questions can be left here in the comments or over there (or if you just rather follow on tumblr, feel free to!). [NYCstuck](http://nycstuck.tumblr.com)


	3. Be Rose again

**> ==> Be Rose again**

_(September 6th, Thursday - 08:23am)_

You look up at the architectural pride of the turn of the century -- one of many in this city -- and feel fingers clench you around the elbow. Looking at the bespectacled girl beside you, you mirror a smile back at her as she gives you a small squeeze.

"Nervous?" Jade asks.

"Not in the aflutter way you are, but there is a taste of unease tingling at the back of my throat."

"I told you not to eat those McGriddles for breakfast. That stuff just comes right back up."

"I appreciate your attempt at distracting me from my inexplicable fear of the unknown, but all I can think of is that this is high school, the big league. Either we climb the echeladder of the New York public school system or asphyxiate on our own McGriddle induced vomit attack somewhere at the bottom."

Jade kisses you on the cheek, playful and sweet. You blush.

"You got me here with you, Rose. We'll survive so long as we got each other."

"Thanks, Jade," you say honestly. 

Pushing your way through the crowd, you make it up the front steps into the building and look around trying to get a quick snapshot of the layout for future exploration. Also so you know where the hell you should be heading from now on. The answer is obvious immediately - metal detectors and bag scanners. There's two of each lined up side by side in front of you with heavy ropes and security guards cutting off any possible way to sneak past. A funnel effect. Everyone ahead of you is slowly filtering through them like they would do at an airport, only with less pat downs and gropes at your crotch in search of... Whatever the hell they're searching for, supposedly.

"Seems reassuring," you say, getting onto one of the lines.

"They're really safety-oriented here, huh?" Jade asks from behind you.

"Or there's enough idiots and miscreants here to warrant careful screening of every single student that has to march through here."

"Oh, yeah. That sucks."

"Welcome to high school," you say dryly as you approach the metal detector. 

Placing your schoolbag on the conveyor belt, remembering almost too late to remove your rings, cellphone, and the change in your pocket. Placing them sloppily atop your school bag, you watch it slide on through the screening machine as you step through the metal frame before you. It's hard not to notice all the security guards waiting on the other side. Some look like decent individuals, but most look like they hate your guts and that you're probably hiding contraband in your shoes or crotch or both. It's a lovely warm and fuzzy feeling in your stomach that is only pretending to be disgusted by it all. Yes, only pretending.

Not setting off any alarms, you collect your stuff and step past them. Replacing your items where they belong, you wait for Jade just a few feet away. She's only a few steps behind you when you turn around, a relieved sigh on your lips. It's only too easy for her to get into some silly trouble and this is literally the last place you want that to happen at, or at least almost the last place. There's more sordid and creepy places you rather she not get into any trouble in either, for a variety of obvious reasons.

Together again, you follow the rest of the students as they move down one of two long hallways on either side of the main lobby. It doesn't seem to matter which you head down so you both follow the right side, passing a side entrance and a flight of stairs that's too clogged with kids heading up to even want to attempt to do so. On a hunch, you follow a trinkle of students heading further down the hallway and up another side staircase which leads you out onto the second floor. Following the trinkle of students, you find yourself in an open space with an opening in the center that looks down into the lobby you were just scanned at. It's a perfect, large square with a short wall around it to keep anyone from falling through and around it are a few doors here and there - Administration, Principal's Office, etc. 

Everyone is converging at one wall though, disappearing past two large doors that have been left propped open. It has to be the auditorium and you and Jade follow the others inside. Although, once you step inside the place and you get a twinge in the back of your throat. It almost makes you want to turn and run all the back home. You carefully keep your face neutral.

It's crowded from wall to wall with teens of all shapes, sizes, acne problems, and ethnicities. The place can hold an ungodly amount of students and it almost seems like it's doing just that even though more students are pushing past you. Sophomores and such are joining friends while the other freshman like you are busy trying to look as small as possible as you all navigate the aisles, trying to find an unoccupied seat where you won't be culled at.

"It's pretty packed in here," Jade says at your side, looking around as intently as you are. "A bit off-putting, I guess you could say."

"Indeed. Let's find some seats before anymore of our fellow schoolmates join us and we have to sit in the aisles."

Jade hooks her fingers around your elbow again and you know she's doing it more to calm you, despite your neutral expression, than to keep herself from getting pushed away from you as you both push pass inconsiderate assholes standing in the aisles that refuse to move out of your way. As expected of any large school gathering, you both go ignored, people deep into their various conversations, or keeping their mouths shut and their heads down to blend into the general populace and background. You pity the latter ones because they're always going to be the ones more than happy with just getting by, losing themselves in the crowd as opposed to leading it, or at least lagging uncaringly and coolly behind it. 

You rather remain aloof of the crowd all together at all times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is free of McGriddle jabs. xD


	4. Jade: Be you now

** >==> Jade: Be you now **

_(September 6th, Thursday - 08:31am)_

Digging your buck teeth into your bottom lip, you survey the area quickly, trying to pick out someone familiar in the sea of faces. With a squeeze on your best friend's elbow, you point excitedly as you find what, or rather, whom, you are looking for.

On the left side of the auditorium, you easily spy your twin brother's dopey grin and black framed glasses. He's wearing the blue t-shirt you bought him for Christmas last year, the one with the little green slime guy on it from one of those corny movies he likes. You thought his eyes would pop out of his head when he had taken it out of the box. He loved it and pretty much wore it all the time.

"Egbert," Rose greets as your brother hops to his feet and removes an extra backpack that proves to be easy to fold up and store away because its filled with air and a coat from the seats beside him. It's hard not to note that the coat looks wholely out of place at this time of the year. "When you said you would try to save us seats, I thought you were only being courteous, not blatantly suicidal."

"Ahah, Rose! It was super easy with a little pranking know-how. I just laid out the stuff and if anyone asked about it, I said my friends were in the bathroom," John explained, matching your silly grin. "Nothing too hard for a prank genius like myself."

"Hehe!" you giggle. "Good job, John. Thank you!"

"Hehe, no problem!"

You all take your seats, John resuming his aisle seat, you next to him, and Rose on your other side. It's a cozy and familiar set-up. You almost wish you were at your place with Bec sleeping at your feet and your two best buds here watching a movie on tv. Sometimes Dave came and joined, sitting sometimes on Rose's other side; sometime sandwiched between you and her. You really like when he did the latter.

Oh, but you won't let your thoughts stray down that path. Liking your best friend's brother was kind of weird, especially since you've all known each other for a quite a few years now - since the beginning of middle school actually. It was kind of disappointing that Dave had chosen to go to that high school on 49th Street instead of yours. Not like there was much you could do about it. Plus, at least you'd still get to see him after school and on the weekends. 

Ooo! Maybe you can find an open fire hydrant to play around at this weekend. It's still pretty warm out, thankfully, for it to be possible. Then Dave would take off his shirt, but he'd keep his shades on, and oh yes, his choice of swimshorts consisted of ironic skin tight, shorty shorts. Mmm... 

Oh gog, why are you still thinking about Dave!?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, no McDonald puns!
> 
> Hopefully you're all enjoying this. It's still really early and things are a little slow, but I did mention this story is going to span over their entire time at high school and right now I'm only focusing on their first day of high school (and yes, we'll see more than just Rose, Dave, Jade, and John during this 'day'. Eventually). =3
> 
> And don't forget! [NYCstuck](http://nycstuck.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!


	5. Jade: Hope no one heard your flushcrush thoughts about your best friend's twin brother

**> ==>; Jade: Hope no one heard your flushcrush thoughts about your best friend's twin brother**

_(September 6th, Thursday - 08:34am)_

Well obviously no one heard your thoughts -- they're in your head! It's not like your thoughts are being projected onto the computer screens of hundreds or thousands of strangers right now or something equally paranoia-inducing and/or creepy like that.

Nope! Everything is nice and secret and safe inside your head.

"How's Dad and Nanna?" you ask your brother as you all wait for the auditorium to explode from over-capacity.

"Great! Nanna left a pie over my bedroom door this morning so when I got up to brush my teeth, I also had to take a quick shower. It kind of sucked, but Nanna is like a prank master so it just can't be helped," John chuckles. "Oh, and Dad says he hopes you have a good day and that he's going to cook dinner for us all tonight."

"Yay! Will there be dessert?" 

You already know the answer but seeing John's face look slightly queasy is totally worth it.

"Can we not talk about dessert so early in the morning?" he asks with a frown.

"Even though I've known you for some time now, I still don't quite get your aversion to the confectionery goods your Dad and Nanna enjoy creating with such vigor," Rose chimes in, fiddling with her cellphone.

"Bluh," John gulps, looking ill now. "I just really rather not get into it right now. Please, guys?"

"Very well," Rose says, looking up with a twinkle in her violet eyes. "I'll abandon the subject in lieu of asking you about that thing we discussed the other day."

Your eyebrows perk up at the way John's face shifts quickly from queasy to horror and embarrassment.

"This really isn't the place for that..." he says in a low voice, almost lost in the din all around the three of you.

"What are you two talking about?"

Rose flashes your brother a smirk and goes back to fiddling with her cellphone, effectively evading the question. John just looks uncomfortable and remains unnaturally silent. 

"Oh come on! No secrets!" you insist.

"It's not my place to speak," Rose says, finally pocketing her phone.

"John?"

"Hey look, an important looking adult is coming onto the stage!" 

You frown as you see that he's unfortunately right. You're not about to let the subject die so easily but then the man on stage is messing with a microphone, trying to gain the attention of the now nearly full auditorium so you decide you should pay attention. 

Dammit, this isn't over yet.


	6. Be John

** >==> Be John **

_(September 6th, Thursday - 09:37am)_

Nah.

Instead, you're Dave Strider, coolest kid in the Tri-State area, and recent survivor of one of your Bro's random ninja attacks. You breezed on into school almost an hour ago, slaying bitches with your sweet first impression left and right. You slayed so many bitches in the last hour that your arms are killing you now. It's equivalent to the pain in Atlas' arms from holding up the Earth all the time. Just so damn mighty and excruciating. People would pity you if they knew. 

Damn, so many bitches got slayed.

Currently, you're recuperating from all your sweet slaying at your first period class of the day, Algebra II, or, 'That-shit-you'll-never-need-when-you-become-a-bitchin'-superstar-DJ'. Whatever, you'll survive. School may be for chumps but if you have to be here, then you're going to make the most of milking the teats of this shitty educational system.

Besides, the whole reason you chose this specific school was for their super impressive and cool music department. You even had to put together an audition to get in, which was so ridiculously easy that you had to wonder if they just wanted you here so badly that they dumbed down your audition to ensure their being able to acquire you. Okay, maybe not, but it was still a ridiculously easy audition. Almost ironically so.

Before you can really think about blowing this establishment out of the water though, you have to make it through your classes of the day. With it being the first day of school, you doubt you'll get to do anything much today overall but get some stupid papers for your guardian to sign about how you promise to not break any of the class rules you won't read, except for the music class ones. Those you won't even get until tomorrow because apparently you don't get Music class until tomorrow. Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays are for sick beats and Thursdays are for chillin'. Not too shabby, you have to admit - to no one but yourself.

But yeah, it's gonna be hella boring and slow today. 

"Okay class, to better assess where you are in terms of mathematical knowledge and recollection, we're going to have a exam today," the teacher announces, beginning to pass out papers to a gaping class.

Wait, what the fuck? No! That shit ain't cool.

But it is ironic. Ironic is cool.

And yet taking a math test on your first day of school isn't cool. No matter how hilariously ironic it is.

High school is going to suck so much smuppet ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say thank you to everyone reading! =3


	7. Be someone not being tested for mathematical knowledge and recollection. Quick!

** >==> Be someone not being tested for mathematical knowledge and recollection. Quick! **

_(September 6th, Thursday - 09:40am)_

You are John Egbert - who else would you be? You've always been you. To think otherwise is just weird.

You made it through Orientation without having to answer anymore embarrassing questions from your sister, though you are a little peeved at Rose for mentioning anything to begin with. Jade is going to hound you later on about it, you just know it. If she remembers that is, which might be your only saving grace here. Still, if the blue rubber band she slipped over her thumb is any indication, she won't forget. You need to come up with a good cover story because there's no way you're going to mention to Jade what you and Rose were talking about the other day.

Not even right now because you've already discussed it and don't feel like reviewing those thoughts again at this moment in time.

Definitely not.

You're only half listening to what your new Biology teacher is talking about. Rules, signed, guardians... Bluh, bluh, bluh. This is just stupid and boring because you're basically going to hear the same thing over and over again for the rest of the day.

Someone throws a ball of paper at you, the light projectile bouncing off the back of your head and snapping you out of the lame cover stories you've been attempting to think up. Looking around the class, you're greeted by a whole lot of unfamiliar faces. For an instant, you swear you see a smile on a pair of blue colored lips two rows behind and one row over from you, but the girl the lips belong to seems to be studying the paper with the class rules pretty intently. Huh? Maybe someone is just messing with you, or was aiming at a friend and missed.

Turning back to your own copy of the rules, you read over them quickly and shrug. Pretty basic stuff. Seems kind of juvenile they would even give this to a bunch of high school students, but whatever. Looking up at the teacher, he's now going over what to expect this year in his class. For a moment, you indulge in a little daydream involving a movie classic called Ghostbusters. You imagine Slimer peeking out through the charkboard behind the teacher, maybe mocking him before the other kids noticed him. Someone would scream, others would point. Everyone would be like 'Bluh, bluh, bluh! Ghost!' and then Bill Murray would burst into the room at the ready and try to nab Slimer with his sweet ghost catching gear.

Another paper projectile bounces off your head and now you know it wasn't an accident. Turning around quickly, you once again look over your classmates but see nothing too unusual. This is frustrating.

Turning back around, you try not to slip into anymore daydreams or crappy cover stories and try to remain aware of your surroundings. Still, nothing seems unusual and no more balls of paper bounce off your head for the rest of the class. It's not until the bell rings and your shoving your papers into your backpack that another ball of paper bounces off the back of your head. Spinning around quickly, you fail to find a clear villain and frown at this unusual chain of events. There's a group of kids pushing out the door and one laughs - a sharp, piercing sound that sends a shiver down your spine. The sound carries out of the classroom and you're left with yet another uncomfortable feeling in your gut.

Boy, high school sure is uncomfortable and weird, isn't it?


	8. Rose: Make a friend

**> ==> Rose: Make a friend**

_(September 6th, Thursday - 12:25pm)_

It's been a long first few periods on your first day of school and when the bell rings, you check your schedule and your heart soars at the word _'Lunch'_ printed boldly on the little rectangle of paper that is so paper thin, you're sure it's meant to deteriorate within a week.

About time!

It's not like anything has been hard, just tedious. Tedious introductions to your English, Latin, and double period Chemistry classes. Introductions are so tedious and boring. Guh, you hate having to go through them just to get to all the good stuff. Sadly, they are an evil necessity of life. The better ones promise excellence while the sub-par ones deserve a fighting chance to prove their worth later on in the story, unless they're totally lame. You would hate to be part of a sub-par introduction sequence though if you were a fictional character in a fictional story being written by some sub-par fanfiction author hoping to recreate the genius of some incredible person more capable of better introductions.

But you digress.

You gather your things and are pleased to find Jade waiting for you when you exit the classroom. It was a little tricky learning to navigate the hallway, but the good thing for both you and your best friend is that you're both on the same floor of the building, while John is two floors down. This is good because at least the two of you, while not having the same exact classes at the same exact time, most of the time, it means you can both at least walk each other to the next class. Luckily, you both have lunch together so that's a major relief not having to go and sit with a bunch of strangers in the unforgiving domain of a high school cafeteria.

Or what you presume to be unforgiving if the multitude of high school movies were to be believed.

On the way downstairs, you and Jade chat about your classes. She's already had History, double period Trigonometry, and English. If the schedules are any indication, you'll be sharing most of the same teachers, just at different times. The only exception is P.E. and Psychology, both of which you only have three times a week, together. Three floors down, you exit the stairwell and merge into the growing crowd of hungry mauls, the ones laughing and talking excitedly to their friends. No one says 'excuse me', just pushes through the crowd as if it's their gog-given right to do so. No reason then to pay pleasantries you decide as you take a firm hold of Jade's wrist and push through too because it's fight or sink, isn't it? Maybe the day hasn't quite given you that indication yet, but you can sense it breathing down your neck like some eldritch horrorterror. 

You're glad you decided to push through because what you find when you pass through the double doors to the cafeteria is an area less than half the size of the auditorium. It's broken up by two walls on the right for seating areas and none of the three areas promises to seat more than half of those trying to to get through the doors. You actually have to make a conscious decision as to whether or not you want to get your lunch or grab a seat so you don't have to eat your lunch standing up against the wall. Jade makes the decision for you, sliding out of your grasp easily and taking a hold of you now, pulling you toward the food line. 

"Smells good," she says, grabbing a tray. 

"Relatively enough," you respond absently, taking a tray yourself.

"French fries!" Jade squeals and eagerly accepts her portion. "And nuggets! It's like McDonald's without the overpricing!"

"Yes," you agree with a small smile, taking your own portion of the same food with less excitement.

Jade grabs a carton of chocolate milk while you settle on 2% and then you both look for a place to sit. There doesn't seem to be any actual hierarchy in terms of seating, though it's clear that friends bunch up together, which is more a given than a tell. It's a small comfort not to see a Mean Girls-esque diversion going on here - but then, there isn't nearly enough tables really to allow one, so there's that. You both manage to score seats at the end of one of the long tables beside a window, sitting side by side. 

There's a girl sitting across from you that you don't realize until you look up, staring out the window, no food before her except for a bottle of water. She's thin and tall. Taller than you, but then, most people are; you hold no animosity against your genetic makers for this hiccup in your height. Except for the moments when you have to use a chair and a phone book to reach into the back of your closet's top shelf. 

You can tell that the girl is still growing - lucky her, you sullenly grumble in your head - her hands looking slightly awkward where she has her arms folded over each other on the table, a sign that she's still adjusting to their length. Her chin is pointed, her features soft and somewhat elegant, as if she were born into the wrong decade, suited far better for the earlier part of the twentieth century than the beginning of this one. Short, black hair frames her face in gentle curls and waves. She's wearing a black, long sleeved t-shirt, the cuffs a little long where they sit against the back of her hands. There's a long, silver necklace around her neck with the symbol for Virgo hanging just where the line of her cleavage begins - not that you can see it, nor that you really noticed it - just a guesstimate. 

Yes. A simple guesstimate.

You try hard not to look at the piercings in her ear to avoid wondering where else she may have some.

Judging from her slightly pale features, despite her caramel skin tone, and the black eyeliner and lipstick on her lips - likely what's causing her pale appearance - you realize she's probably a goth, though she looks far too elegant for one. Not to say goths needed a beauty requirement. You've seen many very beautiful goth men and women. And just... Damn, looking at her is really making it hard to make tangible thoughts in your head that threaten to dance around the subject before you..

Possibly feeling the weight of your gawking, she shifts ever so much to look at you. The movement subtle enough that if you hadn't been blatantly staring at her, you would've missed the shift of her eyes from the window to you before she tilts her head slightly to get a proper look at you. Her black painted lips stretch up into a soft smile and you feel like someone has just turned the heat up all around you. 

What the hell is this you're feeling?

"Hello," she says, the one word sharp and carefully enunciated.

You open your mouth to reply but all you can do is stare at her eyes now because you couldn't really see them before. They're green, a lovely jade color. You've never seen that color on anyone before and wonder if she's wearing contacts.

"Hello!" Jade greets, french fries stuffed in her mouth so it sounds more like 'heewwoo'.

Her eyes shift away from you to Jade and you thank whatever gods actually exist for this because your brain can now process thought again. You tear your gaze away from the girl and stare down at your untouched food as if it held the meaning of life.

"Hello," you hear her say to Jade.

From the corner of your eye, you can see your friend swallow her food despite the overflowling amount she had in her mouth. She beams at the girl and you almost envy her ability to be so adorable and friendly no matter her situation.

"My name's Jade and this is my friend, Rose," she says warmly, flashing her signature goofy grin and indicating you both with a point of her thumb at each name. "We're freshman."

"Pleased to make your acquaintances. _Mi nombre es Kanaya._ Eh, my name is Kanaya, that is. I am a sophomore."

You know you need to say something, after all, it was your gawking that called her attention to your presence. But shit, she's got the sexiest spanish accent and you're replaying how she said _'nombre'_ over and over again in your head because the way she rolled that one 'r' was so damn... Just... Shit. 

Gog, and she was older than you.

Schooling your features with a surprising amount of effort, you finally look up and offer her a polite smile.

"Nice to meet you, Kanaya," you say with no visible tremors of your voice. Excellent. The ball is safely in your court. "I apologize for my previous staring. It was rude and unforgivable."

"It's fine," she says with a small wave and smiles at you. You notice she has fangs. Okay, those are not real, you know that, but the effect of them sends a small shiver down your spine. It is most certainly not a shiver of horror though. Not even in the slightest. It's more like... Well...

You can only hope you're not blushing.

"Oh, those are neat!" Jade says, presumably spying the fangs as well. "Are they real?"

She points at her teeth so Kanaya can get the gist of what she's referring to and the goth shakes her head. "No," she answers. "They're fake. Custom made for me though."

"Cool! Do you like vampires? Rose likes them a lot!"

Oh gog. You resist the urge to facepalm as you shyly meet Kanaya's eyes. She looks amused in the face of your humiliation.

"I do too. Which I suppose is a bit obvious given my fangs and overall appearance. I've always been drawn to the beauty of them. _Lo imagine que_ , eh, I imagine it's simply a carryover from my love of trashy vampire stories. They are darkly beautiful and romantic, in my opinion. What about you, Rose?"

Passing your tongue over the back of your teeth, you try not to gulp at the way your name sounds on her lips. It's beautiful and she rolls the 'r' in your name exactly as you had imagined she might and, yum. With a nod, you dig in your backpack and pull out the book you're currently reading to show her, which just happens to be the latest in a series of embarrassingly, trashy books that you've been unable to put down - _50 Bites of Lust_.

"I greatly enjoy the same type of books myself."

Taking the book from you, she smiles again and pulls open the dark green messenger bag at her side. From inside, she pulls out a book too - a copy of the same book.

"It would appear you and I have much in common, Rose."

'R' rolled again. You swear you only shift your legs because they're uncomfortable the way they were before.

"Yes, it certainly appears that way."

"Your fries look like they're getting cold," Jade pouts, cutting into the moment and effectively killing it. You're not sure whether you want to thump her or hug her for it.

Kanaya hands back your book, a small smirk on her lips where she's trying not to laugh out loud at some unspoken joke, or look on your face, most likely. You blush lightly and look forward to the next bell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slightly late update!
> 
> Ahah, and yes, got the ball rolling a bit on Rose/Kanaya here! (But that ball is like, the size of a pebble and it just starting rolling the side of a mountain. Remember in the beginning when I said this story was going to take a while to tell? Yeaaaaaaaah.)
> 
> And uh, I had to make Kanaya hispanic (well, half, but we'll get to that MUCH later on) in this because I couldn't stop imagining her enunciation of words being a thing born of English not being her first language. (Also, UNF. Mostly I did it for the UNF. /shameless/)
> 
> The next chapter or two (or three? /teases/) will show a few more of the human!trolls. Are you excited!? =D


	9. John: Get the feeling someone's following you

** >==> John: Get the feeling someone's following you **

_(September 6th, Thursday - 14:01pm)_

Ever since first period, you've been unable to shake the feeling someone's following you. You can practically feel the heavy gaze on your back in every other class, and in the hallways. It feels the way you imagine a fly feels when it gets caught in a spider's web and said spider is creeping over to it, about to eat it. It's not a very comfortable feeling at all, you decide.

You have lunch fifth period and eat in a corner to keep an eye out for any suspicious characters, but most of the people you've met today have been fairly friendly with you so far. And anyway, lunch actually seems pretty calm, and even the next class too, but it's seventh period now -- P.E. class -- and that feeling of being stalked is even worst than before. 

There's a few familiar faces from your earlier classes of the day that you recognize right off the bat. One is a short boy that has two very defining things about him. For one thing, he's an albino - skin pale, hair white -- even his eyelashes are white, you can't help but notice - and red eyes that forever seem to dart around nervously. His eyes are the same red as Dave's, which is kind of weird to see on someone else but does kind of make you wonder why this kid is an albino and Dave isn't. Possibly, it's because Strider is too cool to be devoid of pigmentation? Yeah, you'll go with that because it's the best you can come up with on the subject. Maybe you'll figure it out in Bio this year at some point when you're not slicing up pig fetuses for the twisted amusement of the teacher. 

Oh! Back to your fellow classmate! The other thing about him that makes him stand out, whether he means to or not, is that he frowns and yells a lot. When you say a lot, you mean a shitload.

"What the fuck are you looking at dipwad?" he yells at you when he catches you looking at him.

"Erm, nothing really. Why do you yell so much?"

"Because I fucking can, that okay with you fuckass?"

"It's no big to me," you reply, tilting your head. "If you were a bit nicer, I wouldn't mind being your friend, you know."

He looks a bit taken aback by this, but he quickly recovers and frowns at you again. "Fuck off. I don't a dickweed like you as a friend."

"That seems a bit unfair to just write me off so easily. I happen to make a pretty decent friend. Do you like Nic Cage movies?" you beam at him.

"No one with half a brain cell likes Nic Cage movies," he scoffs.

"Well, what kind of movies do you like then?"

It's a good thing this is the first day of P.E. because after the teacher gives you all a quick rundown of what you'll be playing during the year, she pretty much lets you have a free period. So you slide yourself across the gym floor to sit closer to the boy and tuck your knees up to your chin as you continue your conversation with him. He looks at you suspiciously, as if he's waiting for you to say or do something to show that you're only feigning interest in what he has to say or like. 

You politely smile and wait.

"I like... John Cusack movies. Don't fucking give me shit about it either," he quickly adds.

"Oh! Hm, doesn't he usually do those romantic comedies?"

"Yeah, so? I fucking like romcoms."

"Oh! Well, that's cool. I got nothing against them."

You smile brightly at him to show you're earnest about your statement. He looks shaken up a little and you wonder if it's rare that people are nice to him or something. Maybe that's why he yells so much? The idea makes you sad and you decide he seems pretty harmless so maybe he'll make a good friend in the long run. He opens his mouth to say something else but is thrown off by a hand clamping down on his shoulder. The girl smiles at you with blue colored lips and you remember her instantly from your first period class.

"You're such a little bitch, Karkat," she giggles.

"Gog, fuck you, Vriska!" he growls, attempting to shrug her hand off of him to no avail.

"Hey, it's not my fault you like those fruity romcoms so much. And anyway, I think John here is on to something. Nic Cage is an awesome actor!"

You frown. "How do you know my name?"

She gives you a mischievous look that makes your stomach twist uncomfortably. "We have a few classes together." A nonchalant shrug. "I pay attention."

Frowning yourself, you don't really remember saying your name today, though there was roll call in several of your classes and yeah, that's probably where she heard your name. Okay, fair enough. You feel kind of dumb for not having noticed hers even though now the name Vriska Serket comes to mind from one of the roll calls. It only kind of stuck out to you because it was kind of odd. You guess, based on her blue eyes and blonde hair, it must be Russian or something.

"Anyway, as I was saying, Nic Cage is a great actor. Much better than John Cusack by far," she titters when Karkat grits his teeth and pushes her away with success.

"Fuck off already! Don't smear the good name of Cusack in my presence you insane bitch asshole!"

"Such a grumpy face!" Vriska says, affectionately ruffling Karkat's hair before standing up. "See you around, John."

Confused by the whole situation, you give her a small nod and watch her move off to the other side of the gym. Something about her makes you feel uncomfortable and when she looked at you, you felt that same creepy fly-caught-in-a-web feeling again. Maybe you should steer clear of Vriska in the future. 

You guess Karkat should steer clear of her too because he's currently in full rage mode, his hands flailing about and a stream of curses falling from his mouth. The teacher is giving him an odd look and you hold out your hand to him, right in his face where he both flinches and finally falls quiet. You lower your hand so it's not in face and apologize before introducing yourself, hand still held out to him.

"I'm John Egbert," you say.

He hesitates. Like, really hesitates as he regards your hand with a look of apprehension and uncertainty and you're almost sure he won't shake it. He does though, lightly.

"Karkat Vantas," he says carefully.

"It's cool meeting you, Karkat. I hope we can be friends?"

"You really want to be friends with a worthless sack of shit like me?"

"Dude, not cool! Don't berate yourself like that! You seem like an awesome kind of guy!"

You give him a large smile and he hesitantly shoots back a small smile in response. Awesome, he seems better already! The two of you spend the rest of class talking about your favorite movies and it's awesome.


	10. Dave: Drop some phat rhymes while you wait for the train

** >==> Dave: Drop some phat rhymes while you wait for the train **

_(September 6th, Thursday - 15:33pm)_

First things first: You don't just drop phat rhymes at random. That's a little tasteless and kind of lame to do by yourself. But you do rap along a little with some of the sick beats blasting in your ears, nodding your head along to the music. You even sing a little with the next song that pops up on your MP3, which is some ironic crap you would never openly admit to listening to, for ironic reasons. Still, you keep your voice low as you sing along to Coldplay's 'Viva la Vida', making sure to sing only a line here and there in case someone's listening.

Someone is listening, you realize after a moment, light brown eyes widening when their owner realizes you notice him. He's a lot shorter than you but that's probably because he's in a wheelchair. He looks about your age with dark caramel skin and a black, shaggy mohawk in the middle of his head, sides shaved smooth. He's sitting a few feet away, almost hiding behind a pillar. He blushes and looks away; looks like he wants to melt into the pillar in embarrassment. You actually feel kind of bad for him despite your own humiliation at being overheard singing along to Coldplay. Maybe he doesn't know the song, you reason. His style doesn't suggest he's into that kind of music anyway - punk clothes; black, baggy pants ripped at the knees and a sleeveless brown and red shirt with pins in it for some style - but then, your coolkid style doesn't suggest an interest in Coldplay either.

As you debate whether or not to approach him, a tall, lanky teen comes up behind him, tapping him on the shoulder. Wheels looks like someone just started shooting up in this bitch as he jumps and turns his head to look up at the other teen, relaxing when he recognizes him. You're close enough to eavesdrop on their conversation without seeming like you're doing it on purpose - so you proceed to do so.

"Y-y-you scared the crap out of me, Gamzee!" Wheels says.

"Sorry, little motherfucker. Didn't mean to get all up to be scaring the shit out of you," the taller teen - Gamzee, you remind yourself - says in a drawn out way that strongly suggests a dope head if you ever heard one.

"Where'd you go off to?"

"Got motherfucking thirsty." Gamzee holds up a bottle of soda for Wheels to see. "Scored some mirthful Faygo from the motherfucker right over there."

The punk follows the jerked thumb to a little convenience store at the other end of the platform. "O-oh. C-cool, then."

The dope head ruffles Wheel's hair affectionately, making him blush slightly and look nervous again. Gog bless New York City and all it's strange little oddities, you think with a small quirk of your eyebrow. You're about to turn the volume back up on your MP3 player when they start talking again. Damn, where the hell is that train? You shouldn't be eavesdropping so much on strangers like this - it's a little weird even for you. Seems more like a Rose thing.

Ha, she would have decked you for that. Or jabbed you with her knitting needles.

"Whatcha all been up to over here, Tavbro?"

"Oh, just... Er, well, that is to say, that, erm... I was listening to that kid rapping."

He nods in your direction and you try to keep your features schooled even though you realize that you've been quiet for a while now as the punk - Tavbro? that can't be his legit name so you'll stick to calling him Wheels for now - looks at you and then down at his hands in his lap, looking a hell of a lot like a kid caught trying to sneak a cookie before dinner. 

"Hey, motherfucker," the dope head says, waving his hand to catch your attention. 

You turn your head toward him, really getting a good look at him. He has the biggest smile plastered on his face and you have a feeling that its an all-the-time kind of smile, not just a pleasantry aimed at you. His eyes are dark - maybe purple, but it's hard to tell in these shitty, dim fluorescent lights. It's an odd color for most people, but your own twin sister has violet eyes, born and bred with them, so it's not really an odd thing to you, just rare to see. He's even thinner and lankier than you first noticed, a lean build, but all bones. His baggy shirt and pants hiding a hint of muscle you can spy in the curve of his forearms.

Also, his face is painted like a clown. That's just weird shit right there. Hella fucking creepy.

Still, he seems mostly harmless and you hesitate before you acknowledge them with a sharp upward nod of your head. Before either of them can say anything to you though, your phone starts dropping sick beats and you jump, just a little, at the sound. Probably wouldn't have if you had been minding your damn business and listening to your music, but what's done is done. With a wave of your hand that you hope comes off as apologetic, you fish out your phone. It's from Rose again. 

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 15:37pm --

TT: Hopefully you're not on the train yet?   
TG: nah but im waiting on it  
TG: whassup   
TT: To help you and I save some of our alloted Metrocard rides, meet us at the 14th Street station.  
TT: Jade, John, and I will be waiting for you there.   
TG: no prob   
TT: See you soon then. 

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--

You look up in time to see the headlights of the train illuminating the tunnel before the train pulls into the station. When the train stops in front of you, you notice Gamzee pushing Wheels onto the train and you can respect that kind of friendship, but since they get into a different car, you push them out of your mind as you step into your train car and lean against the opposite doors, hands shoved in your pockets; Coldplay blaring in your ears.

It's not like you'll ever see them again in a city filled with millions of people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops! A little late on posting this chapter. ^^; Really sorry about that.
> 
>  **ETA:** I received a justified compliant about my characterization of Tavros here and I just wanted to clear the air here in saying that it wasn't my intent to make Tavros seem wimpy or shy or whatnot here. I was only trying to display him as embarrassed and guilty for Dave having caught him eavesdropping. Also, he has a small stutter. 
> 
> But I promise he'll be more 'in-character' in his next appearance. =3


	11. Dave: Meet up with friends

**> ==> Dave: Meet up with friends**

_(September 6th, Thursday - 15:52pm)_

You arrive at the 14th Street station without incident and get off the E train to go in search of your friends. You find them leaning on the wall opposite of the stairs you climb up as if you all had rehearsed this meeting over the summer. You can't help smile a little when Jade squeals and launches herself at you, throwing her arms around your neck and snuggling her face into your shoulder. Letting out a little chuckle, you wrap an arm around her back and pat her in return. Dave Strider just gets all the ladies' love like that.

"Wooing the ladies with that amazing Strider charm ever still?" Your sister smirks, approaching and pressing a playful kiss to your free cheek.

"You know how I roll, sis." You smile easily at her before shifting your gaze to John. "S'up, Egbert? Had a good day frolicking around these lovely ladies?"

"Naturally." John beams and with a grab of your hand and a bump of shoulders laughs before letting you go. "Managed okay without us?"

"Like I couldn't?" It's hard not to smirk at the eyeroll your best buddy gives you.

"If you two are done flirting," Rose says, smoothing out her skirt. "We should get going. It's really hot down here."

"Yeah." Together, you all head off toward the L train.

"So, how did you guys fair today? Meet any cuties?" You ask, arm in arm with Jade who just can't seem to peel herself off of you today. It's pretty adorable even if she is wrinkling your favorite shirt.

"Nope!" Jade giggles.

"No cuties here either," John says. "But I did make friends with an albino kid. At least, I think we're friends. Karkat yells a lot so it's hard to tell, but I think he's harmless enough."

"Sounds good," you say.

"Yeah, and I think this weird chick was following me around all day, but I could be wrong. I met her in Gym and she was kind of really a bitch so I really hope not."

"Hope she wasn't trying to steal your lip virginity. I got dibs on that shit." 

"Please," John laughs with another eyeroll. "You wish."

"Dude, you know you wouldn't want anyone else to take it but the Strider."

"Oh the monuments that could be built to your self-centerness," Rose says with a head shake.

"Yeah, and people would line up to worship at them like I was the new Jegus. The lines would be so long they would intertwine in knots on street corners. We could set up pretzel stands nearby and make a glorious killing from the knotted worshippers."

"You do a lot of unusual wishing over there in Striderland."

"Jealous?" You smirk at your sister.

Rose laughs out loud, barely able to cover her mouth with her hand. It's a rare display of honest emotion from her and you shove her playfully, making her giggle harder.

"Anyway," you say, ignoring her gleeful giggles. "What about you? Did you meet anyone interesting, Miss Lalonde?"

At this, your sister finally stops laughing, sobering up quickly and looking away with her usual look of careful disinterest. Score one for Strider. And unfortunately for her - but fortunately for you - Jade decides to speak up in Rose's place.

"We met a vampire chick." Jade's grin couldn't be wider if she tried.

"Yes. She was interesting, so your answer is yes." Rose's face remains turned away and disinterested.

"What's her name?" You ask as we head down the stairs to the platform for the L train.

"Did she try to bite you?" John adds, looking excited.

"None of your business and don't be ridiculous."

"I think Lalonde may have a crush."

"Shut up, Dave. I do not."

"Oh, the burn. You're flaming for the vamp with such a fiery passion, no wonder it's hot as balls down here. Don't stand too close to her or you're burn her too. Which would be ironic because you can kill a vampire with fire."

"Fuck you."

"Ah, ah, sis. And you say I have the Freudian problems?"

Rose's voice drops down to a whisper and her eyes twinkle dangerously. "The train's coming and if you don't want to end up beneath it, I recommend you close those pretty lips of yours." 

You've seen that look before and it's never led to anything good, especially for you. So without visibly gulping, you shut your pretty lips and keep a straight face.

On the inside though? You're fucking beaming up a storm at the obvious crush your sister has. You can't wait to put your bro foot forth and be a protective dick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone's enjoying their holidays! Last update for the year. xD See you next year, in a few days. *heart*


	12. Karkat: Go home

** >==> Karkat: Go home **

_(September 6th, Thursday - 14:02pm)_

You attempt to go home, itching for a bath after the day's heat, but before you can reach the door to the three-floored apartment building you live at with your relatives, a voice from the storefront to your immediate right pins you to the spot.

"Karkat!"

For a horrible moment you panic at the sound of your name. Everything in you bristles fight-or-flight, mostly flight, but a second calling of your name relaxes you as you finally register the voice. You're reluctant to go to it, but finally shove your hands into your pockets and enter the store, opening the heavy glass door with your foot and shoulder. It's cooler inside than outside, but not by much. There's an ice cream freezer just off to your left and you lean against it in hopes of cooling off.

"Get your butt off of that."

For a moment you don't move, don't even look up from the floor, but you eventually do both because you can feel the weight of a patient stare on you and it is ridiculously unnerving. Your cousin just has that effect on people. It's rare for her not to get her way, and whether it's because of the way she can look at a person and make them do whatever the fuck she wants them to do or because she's really pretty and her various tattoos and piercings intimidate people, is hard to figure out. Supposedly it's because she's some ideal definition of exotic beauty or something. Gross.

"What do you want, Porrim?" You're careful to keep the sound of agitation out of your words. Not because you're afraid of her or anything.

Right.

"Hello to you too," she sighs, a hint of disappointment in her voice. "Look, Kankri had some things to do and I need a little help running the store today. I only need you until six, so it isn't even that bad."

She brushes her long, black hair over her dark shoulder and you growl.

"Fuck no! I just got home from school! It's stupid hot outside and I had to deal with that bitch, Vriska. Isn't that enough bullshit for one fucking day? Why don't you call the night guy to come early or something?"

"Kankri asked for you specifically to cover his shift."

"Fuck that asshat!"

"Karkat." It's not a shout or a threat, but Porrim's tone is firm. She crosses her arms and you shrink a little at the gesture. "This is a family business. You, Kankri, and I are family, and as family, we do for each other. Like it or not."

"If it's all about family, why don't you call Kanaya in then?"

"Because Kankri asked for you to do it."

"Fuck! Tayyeb! Let me at least go wash my face and hands, or is that too much to fucking ask for?"

You storm off before Porrim can answer and head to the bathroom in the backroom to wash up. Halfway through lathering your hands, ypu remember the papers shoved in your bag for your guardian to sign and sigh heavily. Kankri will probably lecture your ear off about the importance of following rules but never allowing oneself to lose their selves to the grind of established yadda, yadda, bullshit. That long-winded windbag just loves to give sermons and lectures like he was some damn holy man.

Not for the first time, you wish your father was still alive. He was a much calmer sort of person. A little crabby, but way less of a self-righteous asshole than your cousin, Kankri.

Porrim knocks on the door. "When you're done, you can bring up some boxes of soda from the basement and restock the shelves as need be."

"Yeah, great. I can't fucking wait to lug heavy shit around in this heat. It's gonna be the highlight of my day, for glubsucking sure."

"Good boy," Porrim lightly chuckles.

Goddammit, you hate this family sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tayyeb_ is Arabic for Ok (according to my research). Which, I only point out to say that Karkat is of Middle Eastern descent here, as are Kankri and Porrim (and possibly (half of) Kanaya!? (plot point? *curious stroke of chin*)). I was inspired by [Intergalactickoala](http://intergalactickoala.tumblr.com) for this. (I think she's awesome, so yeah, total shoutout. *sheepish*) =D


	13. Jade: Wash you hands

** >==> Jade: Wash your hands **

_(September 6th, Thursday - 17:17pm)_

In a little bit! 

Before that, you, John, Dave, and Rose enter your father's home and are instantly greeted by the scent of pork chops, mashed potatoes - likely hand-mashed, mmm! - garlic bread, and homemade cookies by the bushel. The first three scents make John's mouth water but the fourth scent makes him visibly shudder. You wonder how he'll abscond his way out of having to eat any, especially with Bec back at your house with Grandpa, so there's no one to slide them off to beneath the table.

"Smells hella good in here," Dave says with a slight tilt of his head to sniff the air.

"Definitely," you agree, dropping your bag by the door.

Everyone except John follows suit, lining the bags against the wall by the door so Dad doesn't get mad, or puts them there himself with a small scolding - he's never too harsh about it but he's so nice that it hard to just blatantly disobey his preferred house cleanliness. John leads the way to his room, where he tosses his bag onto the floor amidst the mess already there. His room is a stark contrast to the order of the rest of the house and you still haven't quite figured out if Dad allows it because he understands that John is a boy or that he loves him so much that he allows it in lieu of losing some of his son's love through unnecessary teen angst and tension. You don't really think it's possible for John to love Dad any less than he does, you certainly couldn't, so it just seems like one of those parental fears. One day Dad will understand, you figure.

Dave doesn't even make it subtle about the way he throws himself down on John's bed; a rare moment of uncool that he doesn't seem to care about. He won't complain if anything is bothering him so you hope that this is just a sign that he's tired. Rose settles herself neatly by his head, her hand resting gently on the side of his head, fingers lightly playing with blond strands. It only makes you a little jealous.

"Anyone want something to drink?" you ask, feeling oddly left out of some equation you don't fully understand. Actually you do understand it - it's a twin thing, which is something you know about obviously, but Rose and Dave's relationship always seems so much more distant and closer and sadder than yours and John's.

A nod and a muffle confirmation make you turn around with a smile, catching a glimpse of your brother nodding where he's perched on his computer chair with his knees tucked up to his chin not looking at the blank computer screen. It's that first day back to school weariness you're all too familiar with, you suddenly realize. Some people can handle it better than others, like you compared to the others. But maybe that's a result of your built up stamina from driving across the Sahara with the too hot sun beating down on your head and wading through wide rivers with a bag full of gear balanced on your head and your grandfather telling you a little further and you can rest. 

But that's a bunch of memories for a little later on tonight.

Nanna beams at you when enter the kitchen, hugging you even though she's covered in flour and little globs of batter. Making bushels of cookies is a messy business no matter how many years you've been doing it, Nanna has giggled more than once.

"How was your day dear?" she asks.

"Pretty great! I like everything so far and Rose and I are on the same floor so I don't feel lonely or anything," you say as you grab some packets of Capri-Sun from the fridge. 

You're tempted to grab the cans of soda but Dad would be mad if you all filled yourselves up on carbonated drinks and were too full for the dinner he and Nanna have likely been making at least half the day.

"Oh, that's excellent! Dinner will be ready in a few minutes." Nanna opens the oven and pulls out a tray of cookies. "Hoo hoo!"

Heading back to John's room, you pass out the drinks and relay the dinner news. Then you remember to wash your hands before dinner. Which you promptly go and do before you forget again.

Well, that was rather anti-climatic. =\

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mellow update is mellow. Tune in for the next update's high-action craziness! (Well, maybe not high-action, but it's pretty silly.)


	14. John: Abscond the fuck away from the cookies

** >==> John: Abscond the fuck away from the cookies **

_(September 6th, Thursday - 18:32pm)_

"Dessert time!" Nanna announces as Rose and Jade come back from having helped clear up the dinner dishes from the table.

She produces a large tray filled with several different kinds of cookies - chocolate chip, macadamia nut, peanut butter, oatmeal raisin all smirk evilly at you.

Fuck. No.

You're out of your seat with a hurried, "I-have-to-pee" - you're positive you didn't space out any breaths between the words - and you've almost escaped when a hand clamps down on your shoulder. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Come on, champ," Dad says. "Just have one, so you don't hurt Nanna's feelings."

Oh gog, not the guilt card. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I'm just so stuffed from that delicious dinner, um, I don't want to make myself puke or anything." Bad choice of words, yes, you're aware a bit too late.

Dad doesn't look convinced. You can't blame him, he's heard all your half-ass excuses before.

"Son..."

"I really have to pee."

He lets you go, not convinced, and you make your great escape. Yeah! Score one for the prank master! You really do have to pee though, so you do your business, wash your hands, and dry them off on your jeans as you exit the bathroom.

The first cookie hits you in the middle of your chest and you look at the fallen confection at your feet, horror creeping down the back of your neck as you slowly look up. It's too much like a movie, that moment, and when you see your father posed with the next cookie projectile a few feet away, you can hear the crescendo of imaginary violins and Janet Leigh screaming just before Norman Bates stabs her.

You run.

The cookies are whizzing by you now as you zigzag down the hallway, oatmeal raisin and peanut butter working mutually together to flick your ear and elbow at the same time. This is so wrong for like a million different reasons and though you can't see him, you can hear Dave snickering at you from the dining room or somewhere close by. Bastard.

You make the mistake, the classic movie one that you should've been far too smart to have fallen for, and look over your shoulder. Your sneaker picks that exact moment to snag on a rug and you go flying to the floor in a magnificent slow motion scene that wins you an Oscar for beauty. The great critic Ebert hands you flowers when you go on stage for your award.

Okay, not really. 

Instead, you fall forward like the dork you are and roll over to find your father standing over you before you can even think to get up again. He says nothing but holds out a single cookie - chocolate chip, of course - to you.

Defeated, you take it and shove it into your mouth with a pout. There, everyone's happy but you. Dad nods his head in approval as you swallow it down. He helps you to your feet and leaves you to collect yourself.

"Smooth, Eg-derp."

You glare at Dave, who's smiling and munching on a peanut butter cookie. Gross.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fate is a cruel, crumby, mistress - she also tastes like a chocolate chip. =3


	15. Dave: Goof on John

**> ==> Dave: Goof on John**

_(September 6th, Thursday - 19:17pm)_

No way. That wouldn't be cool.

Instead, you all help clean up the dishes, even though Dad Egbert and Nanna Egbert say none of you have to because it's all of yours big day. You all then retire to John's room before Rose or you have to leave at eight or face your Metrocards becoming useless after eight-thirty. Even though John starts up his computer, he ignores it in favor of clearing up some of his junk -- which is mostly crappy magic junk -- off the floor around his bed so the four of you can crowd around the area. Jade sits propped up against John's pillow and headboard, Rose close to her, back against the wall. John kneels at the foot of his bed, head pillowed in his arms on the white and blue spread, and you lay on your back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. Or sleeping - it's probably hard for the others to tell with your shades on.

"So what do you guys think of the first day?" Jade asks, laying her legs across Rose's lap. "Overall."

"Not bad."

"Decent enough."

"Had a fucking math test." You grumble.

You can feel the others look down at you with remorse. John even presses his hand against his chest and looks solemn.

"Sorry to hear it," he says.

"I'll live."

"Think you passed it?" Jade asks.

"'Course I did. Probably." Despite your neutral tone, you don't sound too convinced, and you shrug to show it doesn't matter much either way.

"It feels a little weird for us not all being together," Jade admits after a long silence following your words.

There's a murmur of agreement from everyone, lips pressing together as you all realize how right Jade is. It's something the excitement of the day had managed to keep you from really dwelling on before, but now that you all sitting together and thinking about it, it weighs a little heavy on your full stomachs. Or that could be those bangin' cookies you had for dessert.

"Well, no matter what happens," you suddenly say, sitting up and tilting your face in John's direction. "I still got dibs on your lip virginity."

"Ew, no way!" John groans, tossing a nearby shirt at you.

"That's sweet of you to give me a memento of our undying love, but I rather just have your lip virginity instead."

"Never!"

Rose and Jade giggle as you and John begin to playfully wrestle around on the floor. It's so doofy, but it's the norm for when the four of you are together. And you know what?

Life is good like this. 

Too bad growing up is going to change it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So Chapter One is going to be winding down soon. And a short Intermission lurks in the near future. Look forward to it! =D


	16. Jade: Say hi to Grandpa

** >==> Jade: Say hi to Grandpa **

_(September 6th, Thursday - 21:45pm)_

Dad pulls up to Grandpa's house promptly at 9:45pm, to no one's surprise. He's a very prompt kind of fellow and you've always figured you and John got most of your genes from your mother because aside from being responsible and good people like your father, there seems to be little other similarities between you and him.

But this is mostly just based on theory. You never met your mother. She died giving birth to John and yourself so you have no way of knowing how she really ever was. Especially given that you and John have a lot of characteristics of your grandparents, but maybe that's more because they and you're father have been the ones raising the two of you since your births. You both used to wonder about her, your mother, but aside from a few pictures, it still seems like a sore subject for the adults to talk about so you've both just grown comfortable in knowing you have three parents that love you unconditionally, and to want anymore would be selfish. Or something like that.

"See you Sunday!" you promise Dad with a kiss to his cheek.

He nods, smiling around his pipe, and watches you bounce out of the car and run up to the house, letting yourself in with your key. Inside, the house is as quiet as it usually it is, though you know Grandpa is somewhere around here. The house is packed with many unusual items from his many years of adventuring and exploring all the corners of the world. He's been at it since he was very young, Nanna has told you, having run off from home just after his thirteenth birthday. She explains things were a bit different back then. Kids grew up faster back then, had to, so him running off wasn't exactly a big deal in society's eyes. You're kind of glad you weren't alive eighty years ago because it seems like a sad time to have lived and you reason that the reason Nanna is so silly and playful, even now in her old age, is because it was her way of making it through that time in one piece. From what you understand, her mother was cruel and her father had died when she was very young, and with her little brother running off at the cusp of puberty, it was either be miserable or be completely silly to mask your pain.

You hug Nanna a lot just to remind her that her life isn't so sad anymore. 

But yes, that's correct - Grandpa isn't really your grandfather. He's really your great-uncle, but since he's been in your life since Day One, he's always been Grandpa to you and John. He's also the reason why your middle name is Harley - just like his. Jade Harley Egbert - no one really likes how that sounds so people usually tend to omit the Egbert part of your name, as they tend to omit the English part from Grandpa's name, which is fine with the both of you. Besides, of everyone, Grandpa has spent the most time in terms of having raised you, so it seems fair you both have similar 'last names'.

When you were four, Grandpa decided he wanted to go on one last adventure around the world before he settled into a quiet life dedicated to raising grandchildren, of which he never sired any children to have any of his own. As you were closer to him than John was, you begged to go with him. It took you nearly two months to convince your father that you would be okay with Grandpa, and after he discussed it at great length with Nanna, he decided it would be okay for you to go with him. John pouted a lot before you left but you told him you'd bring him back a present and he seemed happy with that.

It was almost three years before you and Grandpa came home. John cried and got snot on your shirt and refused to let you go unless you had to pee, clinging back onto you when you were done. Dad sniffled and made loads of cookies and brownies to celebrate your return. Nanna scolded Grandpa for being away so long, then hit him with a pie and gave him a big hug. It had been fun though, traveling the world with Grandpa, and you never regretted doing it, as selfish as that might seem. Grandpa taught you how to read and write while you camped out in the Amazon. He taught you how to hunt with real guns while trekking through the mountains and plains of Asia. He encouraged your science interests with tests and experiments and hypothesis that you were both eager to see the results of. It was way more interesting than school could ever be.

Besides, you brought home Becquerel, your gift that you promised John. The dog loved you both immensely, but maybe because you were the one that had shot the hyena that was about to eat him as a wee puppy, he seemed to be more loyal to you. 

Speaking of Bec, he comes running up to as you drop your keys in the key bowl beside the front door to prevent forgetting where you left them. He's much bigger now than he had been when you first found him, his head easily somewhere around the height of your belly button when you're standing now. He barks, tail wagging frantically in joy, and nuzzles his muzzle against your hip until you scratch his ears just the way he likes.

"Aw, I missed you today too, Bec!" He licks your hand in response. "Where's Grandpa?"

He barks and leads the way to the parlor where you find Grandpa standing before the fireplace, his hands folded neatly behind his back. He often spends time just standing before the fire, contemplating places he'd been and adventures he's had. You sometimes feel bad that he gave up his exciting life to help raise you and John, but he always shakes his head and says he doesn't regret his choice. He says he just looks forward to traveling the world with the both of you once you both get through high school. Maybe no big adventures, but it seems only fair to travel with John someday to make up for not taking him the last time.

"Hi Grandpa!" You greet with a smile.

"Ah, Jade! Wonderful to see you!" He smiles, acknowledging your presence with a nod before sitting in his favorite chair by the fire. "How was your day? Tell me all about it!"

So you sit before the fireplace, Bec lowering down to rest his head in your lap, and you tell him about your first day of high school. Unlike earlier with Nanna, you don't leave out a single detail for Grandpa.


	17. Vriska: Reluctantly take your ass home

** >==> Vriska: Reluctantly take your ass home **

_(September 6th, Thursday - 23:21pm)_

Fuck that.

You're not going until well after three in the morning. Who the fuck cares if you only get two or three hours of sleep before school? It's better than the alternative, which is going home to a dirty house that smells like piss and vomit and catering hand and foot to your foster mother. No, fuck that. You'll just continue to wander the streets until you can't keep your eyes open anymore, thank you very fucking much.

As it is, you don't really feel much like pounding the pavement right now. You're kind of hungry actually. Ravenous, almost. Your last meal was a warm plate of school slop hours and hours ago. First thing you really ate in three days, though you wouldn't call your last meal before that much of a meal. Because, seriously, a packet of Pop-Tarts and a month expired can of icing is hardly a meal, but fuck if it wasn't like a T-bone steak dinner.

Man, you would kill for a T-bone steak dinner. Like, literally kill.

Yeah, your life sucks, but it's fine. You have all kinds of irons in the fire right now and it's only a matter of time before you fish out something good and ditch your life once and for all. Not that you haven't tried before, but the cops always found you and brought you back. Stupid pigs. This time when you ran away, you weren't going to get caught. You are going to all the way to Canada and lay low until you turn eighteen. You'll have money saved up by then and you can get a nice place of your own somewhere in the City and wait for your mom to come home. She was going to come home this time and do right. She promised.

Yeah, it's going to be pretty sweet, just you and your mom. Finally.

But that's still a long way off. Tonight you're hungry and tired because you haven't slept in fifty-eight hours. That two or three hours you might catch later? That's only a maybe. If you don't sleep soon though, you will crash, probably some time halfway through Saturday. Maybe you'll find a nice dark hole somewhere and sleep the whole weekend so you don't have to deal with your life or your stomach pains of hunger. Yeah, right.

Your stomach rumbles and you frown, trying to ignore it. You'll be okay without a helping hand. You'll be fine. You've survived this long, haven't you? Fifteen years without help and you're still alive, that's good odds in your favor.

With a start, you realize where your feet have led you to and you bite your lip. You shouldn't be here. This isn't even your neighborhood -- you live way down in Bed-Sty, but somehow you ended up in Greenpoint. Shit, why did you come here?

Your feet continue to lead you and soon you find yourself standing on the stoop of a five-story building and you're staring a buzzer as if pressing it will open up a wide world of safety and security, and food. Actually, you know it will, even at this late hour, but your fingers refuse to go near it. You have a long inner battle about whether or not you should make your fingers disobey your command not to touch; allow them to touch the buzzer like you secretly long to.

All you have to do, you tell yourself, is reach out and press that middle buzzer. The one with the little label above it that reads _'Pyrope'_. Everything will be good and you can even forward to a night of sleep.

Your stomach growls, mournfully, as you turn away from the buzzer without touching it. You move your feet this time and head down the block, hurrying away without outright running, even though a small part of you wants to run.

You'll be fine without help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END OF CHAPTER ONE!
> 
> Tune in Sunday for the start of Intermission 1! 
> 
> =D Thanks to everyone reading thus far! You guys inspire me to keep going, so thank you!


	18. [I] Terezi: Flashback seven years

** >==> Terezi: Flashback seven years **

_(The Past - October 13th)_

Your name is TEREZI PYROPE and you are EIGHT YEARS OLD today. You recently moved from QUEENS to BROOKLYN because of your mother's new job at the Manhattan District Attorney office. She is an up and coming DETECTIVE and you can't wait to grow up and do the SAME THING. You have a love for COLORFUL things and an innate sense of JUSTICE. You also have a BIG SISTER, who's nice to you, but has no sense of justice like you and your mom do.

As luck would have it, today is also your first day at your new school. You're a little nervous because you won't know anyone and school has already been started for a month and a half now so everyone has probably buddied up and won't want to talk to the new kid. But that's okay, you are UNDETERRED by things like that and are CONFIDENT that you'll fit in well enough once people get to know you. 

After you brush your teeth and dress yourself, you head to the kitchen to have breakfast because breakfast is an important meal to have everyday. It makes sure you can catch criminals without a hungry belly.

"Good morning, sweetie," your mom greets and kisses your forehead when walk by her to smell what's cooking on the stove. Mmm! Strawberry pancakes! 

"Did Latula leave for school?" You ask, taking a seat at the small kitchen table.

"Yes, sorry that she didn't wish you a happy birthday before she left."

"It's okay."

Your mom serves you a pancake and kisses your forehead again. "Happy birthday, 'Rezi. Te amo muchos."

"Te amo tambien, mami!"

She ruffles your hair slightly and goes to clean up the dishes as you drown your pancake in syrup. It's not really okay that Latula left without wishing you a happy birthday, it kinda hurts actually. You admire your big sister a lot and because your mom spends so much time working, it tends to be just the two of you. 

You make a mental note to convict and sentence her properly when she picks you up from school later today.

Twenty minutes later, you're standing in the Main Office at your new school. It smells musty, like old books in a library, with a light layer of perfume -- possibly a poor attempt at covering up the musty smell. You're sure both smells are coming from the older lady behind the counter that's helping your mom complete your registration. Another lady comes and places a hand on your shoulder, saying she'll lead you to your new class. You smile up at her and then give your mom a kiss goodbye. She tells you to wait out front for Latula after school and you promise.

"And make sure to treat any offenders lightly," your mom reminds you.

"It depends on their crime," you say with a grin.

"Good girl."

You don't look back when you walk away, mostly because you can't. You're blind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY! The update is late and that is entirely my fault! ^^; I swear the next update will be on time.
> 
> Also, welcome to the first update of Intermission One! Flashback time guys! =D


	19. [I] Terezi: Make a frenemy

** > [I] ==> Terezi: Make a frenemy **

_(The Past - October 13th)_

Because of your lack of sight, your other senses are sharper than others, especially your nose.

You're led up three flights of stairs and walk fifty-seven steps to your new classroom. Your nose can detect the smell of disinfectant and sour milk even before the classroom door is open. You don't even want to know why those two scents are mingling in a third grade classroom.

"This is your teacher, Ms. Sanders," the office lady tells you politely and leaves.

"Ah yes!" Ms. Sanders says and claps, the motion sending chalk into the air that you can easily smell. "Class, we have a new student joining us. I hope you will all treat your new classmate nicely. If you will Miss Pyrope, please, introduce yourself to the class."

She has a pleasant voice and you feel a rare sense of trust toward a teacher as you tap your way to the front of the room and face your fellow class members. Deep breath.

"My name is Terezi and I just moved here from Kew Gardens. I'm eight today and I want to grow up to become a Detective."

"Welcome to the class, and happy birthday!" Ms. Sanders claps again. You wonder if clapping is just a thing she does all the time or if she's trying really hard to get rid of the rest of chalk on her hands.

"Why are you wearing sunglasses inside?" Someone asks.

"And what's with the stick?" Someone else asks.

Ah, you were waiting for those kind of questions. 

"I'm blind," you answer as if it's obvious, because hello, it is.

There's a murmur through the class and your teacher clears her throat to get everyone to fall silent again. When they do, she places the tips of her fingers on your shoulder and says she'll help you to your seat. With a nod, you allow her to guide you through an aisle of desks to a seat in the back, telling you how many seats back you will be sitting and in what row. Next time, you'll be able to find your way to your seat on your own; you hope on your first try.

As soon as you're seated and the teacher turns away to leave, you can sense someone staring hard at you. It's such a blatant stare and so RUDE. You sniff in the direction of the stare and smell unwashed hair and something sticky sweet, like candy that wasn't licked all the way off fingers or something. You attempt to ignore it as the teacher begins the lesson but as you reach for your notebook in your backpack, a sticky hand grabs your wrist.

"You look stupid," a girl whispers. Her voice is a little rough and sounds older than someone in the third grade should. You wonder if she's been left back before or if she's just had a hard life. Either way, she's being rude still and it's prickling a little at your patience.

"You smell stupid," you shoot back, shaking off her hand and getting out your notebook and pencil.

There's a flicker of a surprised little gasp from the girl's mouth and silence from her for a few moments, before:

"How did you go blind?"

"Shouldn't you be paying attention to the teacher?" you ask.

"Shouldn't you be taking notes or something instead of drawing dots?" she shoots back.

"I am taking notes. I learned my alphabet a little differently than you did."

"Oh."

She doesn't seem too convinced by your answer and you can't blame her. Most blind people use tape recorders or laptops to take notes, but you like doing it with pencil and paper like a normal person. You are a normal person after all, despite your lack of sight.

An hour or so lapses before there's a knock at the classroom door. You lift your nose to try and get a whiff of who might be at the door but things are a little fuzzy over the various scents of your fellow classmates. In time, you'll learn to sort out whose scent is whose but for now, it's a chaotic bouquet to your nose.

"Are you feeling better, Mr. Vantas?" Ms. Sanders asks when the door opens.

"I guess," comes the miserable reply of a small boy. Or he sounds small, and kinda pathetic, to you.

"Take your seat and lay your head down," the teacher tells him and he probably nods before you hear footsteps heading in your general direction.

The boy ends up sitting somewhere to the other side of the girl that had been harassing you before. Now that he's closer, you smell the sour milk scent a little stronger and it clicks in your head why you smelled disinfectant and sour milk when you first entered the classroom.

"Aw, is wittle Karkat feeling better after his nasty puking?" the girl teases.

"Leave me alone, Vriska," he grumbles, voice muffled. 

"Stop being such a baby. You act so helpless when your daddy isn't around to hold your hand."

"At least I know who my dad is," he grumbles into his arms.

There's a thump and a low whimper and before you mean to, you're striking your cane against the back of Vriska's head. She gasps and curses a few choice words before the teacher catches on to the fact that something is up in the back of the room.

"What's going on back there?"

Silence from all three parties before Vriska speaks up. "Nothing," she says.

The teacher must be staring because she's a silent for a few moments before she continues with her lesson.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Vriska asks when it's safe.

"I don't like bullies. Leave that sick kid alone."

"Who, Karkat? He likes when I tease him. Don't you, Karkat?"

"No, asshole."

"See? He loves it!"

Clearly something is wrong with this Vriska character and you begin to profile her in your mind, even turning to a new notebook sheet to make notes on her because you have a feeling you're going to need a lot of pages for her. You even include a section on Crimes Committed. Under it you write, _'Bullying'_ , _'Disorderly conduct'_ , and _'Lack of hygiene'_.  
You hope she doesn't see when you sniff your wrist where she grabbed it, inhaling the sticky sweet smell still lingering there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, a timely update, as promised! =D
> 
> And aw, eight year olds! xD
> 
> Btw, I forgot to mention in my last update, if I miss an update, check the tumblr page. I probably left a reason/excuse over there. ^^;


	20. [I] Terezi: Did I say frenemy? I meant make a friend.

** > [I] ==> Terezi: Did I say frenemy? I meant make a friend. **

_(The Past - October 13th)_

It seems fortune is smiling down on you in honor of your birthday as Ms. Sanders directs the class to line up so she can take you all down to the third floor for Art Class. You love to paint and draw! Mostly, you enjoy sniffing the crayons and squishing paint between your fingers, but effort always counts when it comes to art!

You tap your way to the back of the girls' line and Ms. Sanders directs the girl standing before you to help you keep up with the class from this classroom to the next. She smells like glue and you wrinkle your nose even as you smile politely at her. The class begins down the hallway and you can immediately sense someone behind you, their sneakers squeaking slightly against the floor tiles with each step that they take. Only a sniff over your shoulder confirms your suspicions: Vriska. She chuckles playfully but remains silent the whole way to Art.

You're smart enough not to let your guard down just because she's on 'good behavior', if that's even remotely possible for her, and you strongly suspect it's not.

Your art teacher smells like acrylic and cigarettes but seems happy with guiding you around the classroom and explaining the layout. It's actually not all that interesting and in the end he sits you down at a desk and someone lays a basket of crayons near your hand and some paper near the other. The teacher goes on with the lesson and you're exempt from having to listen because it's some kind of crafts project--though he makes a point of saying how he'll make the next class a little more appropriate for everyone. You don't really like how he stresses 'everyone'.

You proceed to pick through the crayons, smelling them and getting a vague idea of what color you're using. See, you weren't born blind, so you know colors. There was just an accident when you were little... 

No one in your family likes to talk about it and you only have fuzzy memories of it, but there was a car accident. That's all you're sure about except for one other thing, but, well, you personally don't like to talk about that either.

"How does a dumb blind girl manage to draw?" Vriska asks, coming to stand in front of your desk.

"Jealous that I draw better than you, dumb sighted girl?" You smile brightly up at her.

"I think you're making it up, about being blind, just so you can wear those stupid red sunglasses and carry around that stick and get sympathy and stuff."

"And I think you can't remember the last time you took a bath."

You sense a shift in the air a moment too late to avoid Vriska snatching your sunglasses off your face. 

"Whoa," she breathes in disbelief.

Without being able to see it, you know what she's gawking at. There's seriously bad scar tissue around and on your eyes. You've felt it a thousand times already while taking a bath and washing your face in the morning and before bed. Latula and you mom say it's not so bad but you can sense the shift in their pulses that gives their lies away. The doctors say it'll lessen as you get older, which is only a small comfort. Despite that, a smile creeps across your lips as Vriska continues to stare at you, or at least you're pretty sure she still is because you can still smell her in front of you.

"Well now you can see how much I love having someone lead me to a bathroom when I have to go outside or how much I love the overly sympathetic gestures from strangers that think because I'm blind, I must be dumb, and/or deaf, too. Feel better about proving your point now?" You ask her in a calm voice, your voice only slightly flickering in annoyance at the memories. 

She pushes the glasses into your hand and walks away, leaving you to replace them. Of course others were watching but you pretend not to notice the low murmur that began after Vriska's departure. You go back to drawing, tuning everyone out because it hurts. It hurts so much and no one understands. Despite your confidence, some things still get to you. Things like what just happened. False and slanderous accusations and humiliation in front of others, it's hard. But you swallow it down because you refuse to let others see you as someone even weaker than what they already think you are.

On the way back to class, Vriska tells the girl that helped you earlier to scram. You're confused by this until she takes your hand and silently helps you back to class. For the rest of the day, she doesn't say anything to you but at lunch she sits beside you and at the end of the day she leads you outside to the front of the school where your mom told you to wait for your sister. She doesn't stick around once this is done nor does she give you the chance to thank her.

But you still feel like you made your first friend at your new school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, again, for a late post. ^^;;
> 
> I hope people are enjoying Intermission One so far! =33


	21. [I] Terezi:  Flashback four years ago

** > [I] ==> Terezi: Flashback four years ago **

_(The Past, December 21st)_

It’s cold when you exit your school, colder than it was when you left your house this morning – probably has something to do with the snowfall halfway through the school day. Not so bad though you find when you cross the corner when the crossing guard says it’s safe to do so. It takes a moment for you to catch up to the boy ahead of you, his short legs not carrying him quite as fast as he hoped they were. In the cold, he smells like an icy cherry popsicle – delicious!

“Karkles!” You exclaim, clapping a hand down on his shoulder a little harder than necessary. He grunts and slows but doesn’t stop walking.

“Hey, Terezi.”

“Whatcha getting me for Christmas?”

“Er…”

You giggle at his momentary bout of fluster as he scrambles to think of an appropriate answer. You like making him flustered.

“Come on, Karkles! It’s only a few days until Christmas!” 

If you had to bet money, you’d bet he was blushing right now.

“Of course I got you something! Geeze, get off my case!” He huffs and shifts his arms, probably to cross them. “Like I wouldn’t know to get you something by now with the way you’ve been fucking reminding me ever since your birthday! Fuck, I’m not an idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah. I hope it’s colorful and smells yummy like you do.” 

You lean into him as you say the last part and he definitely squirms as he jumps away, making you cackle in joy. 

“Shit, Terezi! People are going to get the wrong idea or something!” He growls nervously.

“Oh my! The scandal! The blind girl and short boy might have a thing! Oh noooooo! Hehehe!”

“Fuck you. Fuck you so hard. Where’s your bestest buddy in the gogdamn world? Shouldn’t you be harassing her?”

“As I recall, Vriska makes you all kinds of adorably nervous.” You grin at him, taking a sniff at the air and grinning wider.

Karkat doesn’t get the chance to respond because a snowball hits him, his grunt at the impact making you bow over with laughter. Not far off, you can hear Vriska laughing as well, the distance closing as she walks over. 

“Gog-fucking-fuck-you-dammit,” Karkat shouts.

“Ah, be a better sport than that, Karkat!” Vriska laughs. He grunts again as she slaps his back. 

“I hate you two so fucking much.” 

He growls and continues to curse as you take the distraction of Vriska’s arrival as the perfect opportunity to scoop up some snow. You forgot your gloves at home and the snow is so cold against your fingers, but you squeeze down on it as you keep your hand hopefully out of sight. When Karkat speaks again, his voice is facing away from you and you quickly slide your handful of snow down the back of his coat. The sound he makes almost makes you pee on yourself from how hard you’re laughing at this point. 

“You insane fucking hell demon scourge and your batshit crazy friend can both go fuck yourselves so hard that I hope you knock out all your teeth in the fucking process!”

Karkat shoves past you and storms away. Vriska and you are howling too hard with laughter to bother chasing him down. The both of you end up slumped against the side of a car, laughing and holding your stomachs as other kids from your school walk by. Eventually you’re able to calm down and you wipe at the tears that have slid down your cheeks from laughing so hard. 

“That was a good one,” Vriska commends, sniffling from the cold. 

“Hehe, I know!”

Together, you set off down the block, chuckling still about it and idly chatting about perhaps having a snowball fight a little later on in the day. Your mom was happy that your junior high wasn’t too far from where you lived at, so it’s not long before you end up at your apartment with Vriska in tow. In the doorway, you shake off whatever snow is still on your persons and kick off your boots inside the door to prevent making a mess on the floor. As It often is, the apartment is empty. Your mom works the day shift and won’t be back until after seven. Latula is probably hanging with her skater friends out in the City where she goes to high school at and probably won’t be back until after eight.

A small part of you wishes she were here so the three of you could go sledding or something. It’s always fun hanging with your sister, but hanging with Vriska alone is just as fun.

As you both help yourselves to some snacks in the kitchen, you notice that Vriska’s gotten a little quiet and you frown a in confusion. Rapping her leg with your cane makes her kick the stick away—which isn’t a big thing since you’ve learned to keep the strap bit looped around your wrist—and growl a little, playfully.

“What’s up, V? Why are you so quiet?” You ask her, sliding into the kitchen chair beside her.

“What? I’ve been talking up a storm over here. Maybe you’re going deaf over there.”

“Oh, the burn,” you chuckle. “Now tell me what’s up.”

“Nothing, sheeze! Can’t a girl just be a little quiet without being interrogated about it?”

“Not in my house.” You grin easily.

“Pyropes are so fucking nosy, do you know that?”

“And little Serkets are very evasive and corrupt. I still like you despite your faults.”

When you reach for your sandwich, you find Vriska’s moved the plate away. When you find the plate, you find it empty of the sandwich. You realize you can hear Vriska chewing. 

“Hey!”

“Serves you right for calling me corrupt,” she says without swallowing the wad of food in her mouth.

“You’re also rude, don’t forget that part.”

She chews louder in response and you scrunch your nose. When she’s noisily swallowed the bite, you feel her place something in your lap – the sandwich. You’re half tempted to chuck it at her when her chair creaks as she leans back in it and her socked feet hit the top of the table. 

“Do you…” She pauses and you do too because it’s rare Vriska is this evasive or quiet about something. “Do you like him?”

“Who?” You ask even as a small blush begins to burn at your ears.

“Karkat. Do you like him like him?”

You laugh to help diffuse the situation, but it’s kind of awkward and sounds even worst in the silence. You kind of wish you had turned on the TV before you started eating.

“Why does it matter? Karkat and I are just friends.” You say finally.

“Hey, I’m just asking. If you like shrimpy dudes with no kind of self-confidence and ugly frowny faces, then that’s your deal. I’m just asking a simple question.”

Returning your sandwich back to your plate, you frown.

“You’re getting awfully defensive about this. What’s your problem?” You ask.

“My problem? I don’t have a problem. Why can’t I just ask you a simple question without you losing your shit about it?”

You listen to her feet hit the floor as her chair shifts again. She’s still sitting, but you get the sense she wants to get up and pace, or run out the door. It’s really weird. What’s gotten into her? So what if you maybe like Karkat? Unless…

“Vriska?” Silence. “Do you like me? Like, in that way?”

“Fuck, aren’t you coincident?” 

Now she does get up, and moves over to the sink, turning on the water and doing something. Maybe getting a drink of water or washing the crumbs from your sandwich off her hands, not that it matters. You get up and tap your way over to her. She seems to be facing away from you because she’s breathing shallowly through her nose as if trying to collect herself. Wow, this is really weird and unexpected. 

You wrap your arms around her and she tenses in your arms, unused to being hugged by anyone, which makes you sad like it always does. She trembles once, twice, and pushes you away.

“Just leave me alone!” She shouts. 

“Vriska!”

But she ignores your attempts to talk to her and is out the door before you can find the proper words for her, because honestly, what are the proper words here? You love Vriska, as a friend, but your heart twists so sickly in your chest when the door to the apartment slams shut.

Man, you’re too young to be dealing with this stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to note, this is four years before the main story and three years after the last flashback. Nice and confusing, yes? Good. xD
> 
> Also, should I tag for possible pairings/crushes or just the definite ones where people are dating?


	22. [I] Vriska: Be you four years ago

** > [I] ==> Vriska: Be you four years ago **

_(The Past – December 24th)_

Your name is VRISKA SERKET and you are ELEVEN YEARS OLD. It’s Christmas Eve today but instead of doing whatever normal kids do on Christmas Eve, you are sitting on a swing in a dark and empty park. Not completely empty actually. There are three pigeons nearby pecking at some garbage at the base of a garbage can. A brown paper bag rustles in the wind in front of them but it doesn’t fly away. Probably weighed down by some discarded food scraps or something, you figure.

You’re considering investigating it for yourself as your stomach rumbles in hunger.

Sighing, you kick off the ground and begin to swing, listening to the old chain creak angrily beneath your weight, whatever there is of it anyway. As you pick up speed and height, you tilt your head back and feel the cold December air sweep through your long, blonde hair that you never bother picking up. Closing your eyes makes it feel like you’re flying. You’ve always secretly wished you could FLY. Carefully balancing yourself, on one of the swings forward, you spread your arms and imagine that for those few fleeting seconds that you are REALLY FLYING.

When you open your eyes, you find that you’re not as alone as you were a moment ago.

“Shouldn’t you be with your family or something?” 

“Thought I’d take a little walk before dinner, but then I caught you’re disgusting odor in the air so I came over to tell you to take a shower for once in your life.” Terezi smiles and laughs at her own lame joke.

“Fuck you, I showered last night.”

She scoffs in disbelief. 

For a long time, you’re both quiet. This is the first time you’ve seen her since storming out of her place the other day and it’s pretty much as awkward as you expected it to be. A dumb smile lingers though on Terezi’s face and that’s the only thing that feels out of place here really. Sometimes you want to hit her and make her stop smiling that stupid, annoying smile of hers. Doesn’t she realize how annoying it is? Of course she does because why else would she always be beaming that thing at you all the fucking time? Ugh, the things you have to put up with sometimes.

“You’re welcome to dinner with me and my family,” she finally says, breaking the silence.

It’s your turn to scoff. “I know.”

She frowns for a moment. “I know you’re still pouting about the other day, but stop it. It’s Christmas time and my mom wants you to come and spend it with us. So, stop being stupid and stubborn for once.”

“Geeze, ‘Rezi, you got some way with your words. I mean, with arguments like that, I can totally see how you’ll persecute all the baddies when you become a super badass detective someday.”

You take pleasure in pissing her off when she bares her teeth at you, but the facial twitch is gone in a moment. Terezi sighs and looks older than eleven all of a sudden.

“It’s not Christmas without you,” she says, her tone tired. “Whatever the problem was the other day, let’s put it to the side and enjoy the holidays like old times and figure it out afterwards.”

A part of you wants to tell her to go fuck herself, but your hands clench the swing chains tighter and you swallow a sudden lump in your throat. Terezi is your best friend. Hell, she’s probably your ONLY FRIEND. It’s really hard to hold a grudge against her, especially when you’re excellent at holding grudges against people. And yeah, maybe you made everything a little worse than what they really were.

“Yeah, whatever,” you sniff and hope she knows that sniff was because of the cold and not because you’re on the verge of tears or some completely untrue thing like that. 

You hop off the swing and walk up to her. You ignore all the conflicting and frustrating things she makes you feel and shove her shoulder so she staggers back a few steps. She grins at you and whacks your leg with her stick. It hurts, but not too bad. You’re both even, in your own ways, and you feel a little silly about the whole incident the other day --at least about storming out of her place, not the rest. Not the bit where you refuse to admit how you really feel about her or Karkat or your own life or anything.

Man, you’re way too young to be dealing with that kind of shit anyway. 

At least for now.

Reaching down, you take her free hand and together you head off to her apartment which isn’t too far away. You’re glad she doesn’t point out that the park is way closer to her place than to yours. You’re glad she doesn’t point out that you were probably there waiting for her to come by. And you’re really glad…

You’re really glad she’s your friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, firstly! Over 2,000 hits on NYCstuck now! =D Thank you to everyone for reading thus far! *hugs all the readers* ^-^
> 
> So! Intermission One is probably half/a little over half done now, so I hope you guys are enjoying this trip down Scourge Sister memory lane (and if you're not, well then you know it's gonna be over soon, eheh).
> 
> I asked this last time, but I could do with some feedback on whether or not to tag for crushes/friendships or just keep tagging for definite relationships? It'd be helpful for a little input. =3


	23. [I] Vriska: Enjoy Christmas with your best friend's family

** > [I] ==> Vriska: Enjoy Christmas with your best friend's family **

_(The Past, December 24th)_

You've never had the best table manners, but you do put in some effort when you're over at the Pyrope place. Except, when Terezi's mom brings out sliced up bits of pork shoulder that they call _'pernil'_ and sets it right in front of you, squished between a bowl of _'arroz con gandules'_ and a bowl filled with chicken, well, you can hardly be blamed for attacking the food like someone completely lacking in manners. Terezi's whacks your arm with her stick and you manage to put your fork down long enough to join in the brief prayer the Pyropes bow their heads to say.

You're not aces with religion, but Terezi and her family has taught you some stuff about it--well, their's which is just simple Catholicism--here and there over the last three years and it's not so bad, just... tedious, you think. A little prayer over a holiday meal is tolerable at least, and they never force their beliefs on you, which is a bitchin' bonus to the food they freely allow you to eat whenever you're over. Once the prayer is over, you're back to ramming food into your face like it's going out of style. You hear Latula and Terezi chuckle at you, even catch Mom Pyrope smiling in amusement at you across the table, but no one scolds you and that's all that matters to you.

After dinner, you help clean up the table because you don't want to feel like you owe them for the food. Besides, it shows them you're not the evil hellspawn you've been raised to believe you are. Latula and you get into a water fight and Terezi giggles like crazy when she gets splashed by a stray stream of water. In the end, Mom Pyrope shoos you and Terezi out of the kitchen and makes Latula clean up the mess. 

You both end up plastered to the television, watching one lame Christmas movie after another and making snarky jabs at everything everyone says because why not. At eleven, you accept a shirt from Latula to sleepover in and poke fun at Terezi for being so short before ducking into the bathroom to change a second before her stick bangs into the closed door behind you. When you come out, Terezi tackles you from a chair she'd been standing on beside the door, dressed in a bright red cape with a dragon head hood attached to it, no less. 

"Height doesn't matter when you're a mighty, ferocious dragon!" She yells and licks your cheek before you can get your hands up to shove her face away.

"Gross! More like a slobbering dog! A chihuahua, even!" You yell back and make a disgusted face when she licks your hand to get it away from her face.

"I'm a mighty dragon, and you, a spider. Watch me squish you!" 

Terezi cackles as she throws all of weight down on you and squeezes you tightly around the middle. Ow, not fair. Terezi may be shorter, but she's got at least twenty, healthy, pounds over you, whereas you're all skin and bones. Not that she has a better advantage over you, but it still hurts when she's squishing you like she is. You end up having to settle for an underhanded and sneaky trick. You tickle her, which immediately makes her let go but unfortunately, she lets you go so she can return the favor.

Tickle fights between you two are relentless and brutal. No one is treated lightly during them.

It's pretty damn fun.

The fight ends about ten minutes later when Latula pulls the two of you apart and tells you it's almost midnight. Terezi's face lights up brighter than what it currently is and she races you to the living room, tripping you twice with her walking stick.

"All right, ladies, gather around!" Mom Pyrope says with a firm tap of her dragon headed cane against the polished wooden floor. 

Something about her cane always makes you feel uneasy, but she needs it to walk because of the minor limp she has. She says she feels off-balance without the cane so she always keeps it near. You asked once why she has a limp and she smiled sadly and told you it was the same reason why Terezi had went blind and Latula couldn't smell -- a car accident. That's all she said and none of the Pyropes like to talk about this 'car accident' that happened forever ago, which is a little unnerving for some reason. 

"Okay, so is everyone ready to open a present?" Mom Pyrope asks, smiling.

"Yes!" The unison response fills the room.

She hands out three boxes of varying sizes to the three of you - yours fits in the palm of your hand and is covered in a shiny, blue gift wrap. Then Terezi and her sister argue over which present to give to their mom to open. They end up playing Rock-Paper-Scissors and Terezi ends up winning best two out of three - she always does, which is confounding considering her lack of vision.

At midnight, you all rip into your gifts and as the Pyropes squee and thank each other for their gifts, you frown at yours. Beneath the shiny, blue gift wrap is a simple white box, and inside of that is a piece of paper that says, _'See you soon'_ in blue lettering.

Whoa. 

Wait. 

That handwriting.

There's no way.

You flip it over with trembling hands and on the back, also in blue lettering, reads, _'Mom'_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Pyropes are of Puerto Rican descent and Catholic, just to clarify. Their Christmas dinner mirrors part of my own family's 'traditional' Christmas dinner (and Vriska's reaction to it pretty much mirrors mine and my siblings reaction toward my mom's cooking). Basically, the Pyropes mirror my family, though they're probably a hell of a lot more awesome. xD
> 
> And yay, cliffhanger! xDD


	24. [I] Vriska: Enjoy Christmas morning

** > [I] ==> Vriska: Enjoy Christmas morning **

_(The Past - December 25th)_

You can’t sleep that night. You lay awake in Terezi’s bed, listening to her snoring lightly beside you and think and think and think.

You can’t remember the last time you thought this much.

It turns out that the gift you got at midnight was a precursor to your real gift. Thanks to Mom Pyrope’s position in the District Attorney office and the many law official friends she’s made over the years, she was able to pull some strings and get you the most amazing present anyone has ever given you.

She’s taking you to see your mom in the morning. You haven’t seen your mother in five years, not since you were six years old, which seems like forever ago. 

Your mom was busted doing a robbery after her partner got pinched for money laundering. In exchange for a lesser sentence, he set her up. You don’t know the full story, but apparently he only got a five to ten bid while your mom got fifteen to twenty years, less if she stays on good behavior. Your uncle, who’s your mom’s half-brother, refused to take you in so you ended up in the foster care system, which blows chunks, especially because of the bitch you got stuck with. 

And no matter what you do, your foster mom refuses to send you back. It’s like she enjoys tormenting you more than getting a check for you, that you never see a red cent from, every month. 

Or maybe it’s because she knows no one would ever want you because you’re a horrible kid, as she reminds you every single day. You have to be because why else wouldn’t your only living relative want to take you in when you were a little kid?

You seriously have the worst luck sometimes. No wonder no one likes you.

Terezi snorts in her sleep and turns over, taking most of the blanket with her. You frown and tug it back from her to cover yourself. After a while, you do manage to fall asleep but it’s too soon before you’re being shaken awake with a scalemate plushie ass in your face. Seriously, what the hell?

“Come on, Sleeping Beauty! Wakey, wakey!” Terezi shouts from somewhere above the plushie’s ass. “It’s Christmas!”

“Yeah, well, it’ll be a Merry-fucking-Christmas if you’d get that stupid toy out of my face,” you groan and reach for your glasses on the floor just below the bed. What kind of idiot doesn’t have a bedside table?

“Lord Lemonsnout is not a stupid toy. He’s a dangerous criminal deviant, much like yourself.”

Terezi bumps her elbow into your ribs playfully and you accidentally giggle. Oh shit. You can literally hear her smile a second before she descends upon you, her fingers merciless at your ribs and, dammit, you’re hanging half off the bed and have to choose between fighting her with one hand or throwing yourself headfirst onto the floor to get away. Pushing your glasses safely beneath the bed, you go headfirst onto the carpet, tucking your head, and twist away from Terezi’s grasp.

You think you’re home free, but her fingers latch into the waistband of your boxers and you have to again make one of two important choices and you are NOT going to slip out of your boxers to get away from her, but your arms are not in a good position to get back at her without hitting her. So instead, you awkwardly twist around at the waist, find her face in yours, and kiss her.

And the world grinds to a halt.

Well. Fuck.

You shove her stunned face away from yours a million years later and watch her stumble back a few steps. You can’t tell whether this is good or bad luck at play, but you laugh even though your stomach is in knots.

“Guess that makes up for me not getting you anything for Christmas. Merry Christmas!” you laugh and leave the room, making a beeline for the bathroom.

Why do these kind of fucked up, complicated things always happen to you? You scrub your face with freezing water and silently hope that when you come out, Terezi will be acting like nothing ever happened, because the day is already promising to be stressful enough with the lack of sleep you got and the butterflies in your stomach over seeing your mom. You don’t need to add awkward to your roster of emotions for the day.

When you exit, Terezi is nowhere in sight. In her bedroom, you close the door and quickly change into your clothes from yesterday and slip on your glasses. Yeah, okay, so far so good. You follow the scent of breakfast to the kitchen and are surprised to find Latula at the stove—Terezi is still nowhere in sight.

“Merry Christmas, rad girl!” she greets, dipping a slice of bread into batter.

“Merry Christmas,” you say, a little distractedly.

You won’t admit it, but you’re getting worried about Terezi being out of sight. The apartment isn’t that big and there’s only two or three other places she can be but you’re not planning to go in search of her. So you help Latula with breakfast and eventually Mom Pyrope and Terezi join the two of you in the kitchen. Greetings and ‘Merry Christmas’s are passed around as breakfast begins to take over the table. 

Terezi doesn’t say anything to you, so you don’t say anything to her.

After breakfast, the family crowds around the Christmas tree. You join them, but stay just outside of their little circle, feeling like the outsider you know you are. You end up thinking of the last Christmas you spent with your mother. It was three months before she got pinched. The two of you spent the night before decorating a large, majestic Christmas tree. She lifted you up when you couldn’t reach the upper sections and the two of you playfully argued over got to put the star on top.

She gave you a beautiful gold necklace that year with a blue, teardrop-shaped sapphire hanging from it. You later learned she had stolen it and the cops took it as evidence during her trial. You’re still pissed about that, to be honest. About the cops taking it, you mean. You don’t care that your mom had stolen it – she clearly had stolen it for you - or even that your mom was a thief. She was, and is, an amazing person to you and no one can ever tell you otherwise.

Yeah, you want to be as mighty and amazing as she is when you grow up.

“Here,” Terezi says to you, surprising you out of your reverie.

You take the little gift box she gives you, wondering briefly what was up with all these small presents this year – better than none, you suppose, but STILL. Opening it up, you’re floored to find a simple silver necklace with your zodiac sign gleaming happily off the end of it. Terezi can’t see your shocked face, but she can apparently tell you’re beyond words because she smiles as if nothing weird had happened earlier between the two of you – all teasing playfulness.

“Like it?”

You put it on and shake your head dumbly for a moment before you remember she can’t see and manage out a quiet, “Yeah. Thanks.”

Mom Pyrope later gives you a black hoodie and a pair of red sneakers and laughs when you say you can’t accept it. She says she won’t take it back so you’d better get used to your new articles of clothing.

Latula gives you a CD player and several CDs of various 90’s grunge bands she enjoys. You kind of have to admit it’s a cool gift and tell her so.

But you would be lying if you said Terezi’s gift to you wasn't your favorite.

“Ready to go see your mother?” Mom Pyrope asks later after the living has been cleaned up of gift wrapping paper.

You kick off your ratty old sneakers, a size too small, slip on your new sneakers, and smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOT! Over 20k words! 
> 
> I meant to introduce Mindfang in this update, but I thought it would be fun to see Vriska and the Pyropes enjoying Christmas morning together (because I thought it would be fun and adorable, instead it got a bit sentimental and slightly awkward - yay!). Next update though...!


	25. [I] Vriska: Have a happy reunion with your mom.

** > [I] ==> Vriska: Have a happy reunion with your mom. **

_(The Past – December 25th)_

White Christmases are supposed to be a happy occasion – angels getting wings and little kids having all there gift wishes come true, or some shit like that -- but when you all step out into the cold December air, there’s not a single flake in sight. Even the snow from the other day has melted away completely by now.

Part of you can’t help shake off the lack of snow as something of an ominous sign despite the good things happening, and going to happen, today.

Mom Pyrope’s car is a Subaru Outback at least five years old, and teal. You weren’t even aware they could paint cars in that color but there you have it. Its shiny and the tasteful red interior, which is also really fucking weird to be honest, is immaculately clean. Probably because Terezi is prone to licking the belt strapped across her chest like some kind of mental case, or it could be because the Pyropes are heinously neat and tidy people. It’s a bit sickening, to be honest.

“Nervous?” Terezi pries, nudging you with her elbow once Mom Pyrope has started up the car.

“I’m cool as a spider,” you reply.

“Spiders aren’t cool!”

“Hell yes they are and you know it!”

“Are not!”

She’s licking her seatbelt now between shouts of disagreements. Like seriously, who does that? Even worst, who stares at their crazy best friend’s tongue while they’re licking a seatbelt? Not that you’re staring, blatantly. Just observing the way it drags up the material and down it and…

Fuck this, whatever it is. You’re not doing it, and you are most certainly not thinking about the kiss earlier.

Blessedly for you, the drive to Rikers Island is short. It’s hella early on Christmas morning, not even 9:30am yet, so the roads are pretty clear and in maybe twenty minutes, give or take a bit, you’re over the Rikers Island bridge. Your mind is spinning to fast with how surreal this all is. You’d been convinced you basically wouldn’t ever see your mother again until you were eighteen, so this is like a dream right now.

The whole process of parking, getting out of the car, being patted down by strangers, and being instructed on how to act in the visiting area goes by in a blur of which you mostly remember nodding a lot through. Eventually, you’re led into the visitor’s area, Mom Pyrope at your side because by law minors needed to be escorted and yadda, yadda, yadda. She does, however, squeeze your shoulder a little in reassurance and tells you she’ll leave you to enjoy your reunion with your mother in relative private, and goes off to stand to the side of the room. Not far in case of an emergency, you notice. 

Spinneret ‘Mindfang’ Serket, your mother, is a six-foot-two pillar of beauty and ferocity. You remember her as the kind of person that the monsters under the bed would piss themselves if they had to face but all the gossipy ladies in the streets wanted to be like. It wasn’t until you were older that you understood her nickname of ‘Mindfang’. She got it because she was good at getting into people’s heads and twisting things around until she had them in a position where they would do as she wanted. In short, your mom was all kinds of badass and no one could stop her.

Except a rat of a partner, that is. You don’t even know much about this snitching partner though, but that doesn’t mean a part of you doesn’t hold some form of contempt toward him. A lot of it, actually.

When your mom enters the visiting area, you greedily take in every detail of her, trying to burn this new image of her into your brain; comparing it to the one already there. Her hair is still long, longer than it was when you last saw her. Her smile is the same perfect tilt of teasing and barely contained smugness. You know you’re already a pretty good mirror of her, though she has more weight on her, in all the right places, than you do, but maybe when you’re a little older you’ll fill out like that too.

It’s her eyes that catch your attention most of all. You have her same blue eyes, but one of hers is now hidden behind a crudely fashioned eye patch. It’s not until you’re allowed close enough to reach out and touch her that you realize there’s an ugly scar hidden just beneath the top and bottom edges of the eye patch.

And that saddens you somewhere deep inside for some reason. The eye patch look is pretty cool though.

You latch your arms around her midsection and don’t look up until you’re sure you can look at her without feeling hot pinpricks of tears in your eyes. Which ends up being a lot harder than you’re accustomed to; the pressure of her arms against your back doesn’t make it even remotely easier.

“Hey, kiddo,” she says when you peel yourself away and take a seat at the table assigned to the two of you.

“Hey yourself,” you say, voice catching on the ‘h’. 

Collect yourself, Serket.

“It’s mostly superficial,” your mom says, touching the eye patch lightly. “Some bitches thought they would be funny with me, but I stopped them from plucking my eye out. I can’t see any more through the eye, but it’s all good. One eye is all I need to see how big and beautiful my little girl has gotten. A chip off the old Serket block for sure.”

You beam at her, mostly because you can’t help it. After years of being called horrible things by your foster mother, hearing your real mother praise you, even a bit, feels too good for words. A part of you that’s eternally six-years-old wants to climb into your mom’s lap and beg her to compliment you like she did when you were little, but the last five years of real life has made you a bit too bitter and cold for that. You ball your fists on the table and smile at your mother, fighting back all the feelings of joy and anger burning at the back of your throat.

She seems to sense that something is different about you now, but she smiles like there hasn’t been five years separating the two of you.

“Where are you living these days?” she asks.

“Foster mom. She’s had me pretty much as long as I’ve been in the system.”

“Same one?”

You nod.

“That’s good. You need a bit of stability in your life. Does she treat you good? Feed you?” Something in her voice goes low and cold. “Does she abuse you? Does anyone, I mean?”

“Fuck no. I’m a Serket. Serkets aren’t victims, right? No one abuses me. I got a bed to sleep in at night and I eat everyday, can’t ask for more than that.”

Your stomach churns uncomfortably from the lies you just told. No one puts their hands on you that much is definitely true, but there’s a lot of ways to abuse a person without making physical contact to them. Starving them on the regular is one, but you’re not going to cry to your mom about that because what can she do in her position?

You take care of yourself, and you tell her as much. She smirks at you, something telling you she doesn’t fully believe you, but you don’t push the issue, neither one of you. She goes quiet and examines you, reaching over the table and tucking some of your blonde mane behind an ear. The smile she gives you is so proud that it almost hurts. Finally, she tosses a glance at Mom Pyrope, whom you’d practically forgotten about at this point.

“I understand you’ve become friends with the daughter of the detective chick that brought you here,” your mom says suddenly, her voice even.

“Yeah, Terezi’s a good friend of mine,” you reply, your voice just as even. Where was she going with this? “Her mom is cool people too.”

“I want you to remember one thing about friends, baby girl. There are no such things as friends. A friend is an enemy that hasn’t gathered the balls to stab you in the back, yet. They will though, and it’ll happen when you least expect it. One day you’re laughing together, the next, your whole life is going down the drain because your good ‘friend’ dimed on you. I’m glad your friend’s mom could pull some strings to give us this hour together, but remember what I said. There are no such things as friends. Do you understand?”

She places her hands over yours and gives you a little squeeze. You drop your gaze from hers to stare at your hands lost beneath hers—she’s wearing blue nail polish, you note. You’re not sure what to say about what she said, but you know she’s right. Have always known it but never had the gull to voice it yourself for whatever reason. Maybe you were afraid of being alone again, but the truth is, you’ve always been alone. Have been since cops busted in and ripped you away from your mom.

“Yeah, I understand,” you say finally, looking up to meet her eye.

“I love you, baby girl.”

“I love you too, mom.”

She smiles and asks if you have any crushes yet. You shake your head and tell her no. No one’s good enough for you, you tell her. Your mom nods in approval and agrees, then proceeds to talk about how she’s been taking charge of Rikers, getting her way and putting people in their place left and right. You hang on to every word she says and near the end of the visit, she promises she’ll be out within the next few years. Says she has irons in the fire to help her get out sooner. She also promises that she’s going to stay clean when she gets out, no more robberies or stealing. She promises it’ll be just you and her because neither one of you needs anyone else.

“Sounds perfect,” you say, and mean it, tears blurring your vision.

When you regroup with the rest of the Pyropes, you take one look at Terezi and feel something break inside of you as you remember your mom’s words about friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /o\ SO sorry for the late update! Phew! But hey, look, Mindfang!
> 
> ETA: Now this chapter is brought to you by significantly less grammatical mistakes! ^^;


	26. [I] Terezi: Flashback a year and a half ago

** > [I] ==> Terezi: Flashback a year and a half ago **

_(The Past – August 19th)_

Your sister teases you about being too old for it, but she’s the first one doing a flipkick through the spray of water, so you ignore her laughter as it fades down the street. The water is icy cold, but so damn good in the heat. You listen to cars roll by, some slowing down so their cars get hit somewhat evenly by the spray of water from the fire hydrant before speeding off. Makeshift car washes, Vriska calls them. When you were both a bit younger, both of you would make a few quick dollars offering to wipe down the cars. Vriska made you do it with your shades off to play the sympathy angle. It helped keep people from just speeding off after you were done wiping the dirt off their bumper. Sometimes they gave you an extra quarter or two – an extra dollar if you caught a family going to or from church on a Sunday.

You sigh and after a moment or two of cooling off in the water, you toss a towel over your shoulder, making sure it fell over your boobs to avoid perverts, and set off home.

Truth be told, you don’t much like thinking about Vriska these days. In the past year or two, she’d gotten into more and more trouble. You’ve tried hard to help her do the right thing but she refuses to listen. She seems more hellbent on doing bad things than when you first met her. At least back then you understood she was doing it to keep herself from appearing weak, but now she’s just doing it to be stubborn and to purposely scorn you. You don’t know why really, but ever since she went to see her mom that one time, she just hasn’t been the same.

You’re surprised when you enter your apartment--air-conditioner humming softly in the living room, thank gog—and hear someone moving around inside. Your first thought is burglar, your mom is at work and your sister went off to her boyfriend’s so it’s clearly not one of them. You grip your walking stick tightly in your hands and follow the noise to, huh, your bedroom. You burst through the open doorway and stop yourself from swinging at the intruder literally a second before you realize who it is.

“Vriska?”

“Yo,” she says nonchalantly. Paper crinkles as she closes whatever she’s been reading. 

Small miracles you don’t keep a diary, not that she’d be able to read it, but she’d still use it to antagonize you. She’s resourceful like that.

“I heard you were in juvvie,” you say, crossing your arms and leaning against the door. “How did you get in?”

“Yeah, just for a few days. No big thing. And I just picked the locks. Chinzy things your mom got there, which is surprising.”

You clench your jaw.

“That’s not cool, and it is a big thing, Vriska. I don’t know why you keep getting in trouble like this. Don’t you care about your future?”

“The question here really is why do you care about my future? You’re going to be a fancy-schmancy detective like your mom and have everything. What does my life have to do with any of that?”

“We’re friends.”

She scoffs and you can hear her getting off your bed, the springs creaking as she lifts her weight off of them. It’s been a long time since the two of you had a sleepover you realize.

“Friends are just enemies who haven’t gathered the balls to stab the other person in the back, yet. But they will, sooner or later,” she says, her voice facing away from you. “The fact of the matter is, you and I are destined to be on opposite sides of the law. One day you’ll get a call to some crime, maybe a shoplifting incident – maybe a murder – and all the clues stupidly left behind will point only at one person. Then what?”

“You’re not a murderer, and you’re not stupid. If you make it that easy for me to catch you then you’ll just be asking for help.”

“That wasn’t my question.” She’s facing you now because her voice is louder, but maybe that’s because she’s just short of yelling. “What are you going to do when you realize it’s me you’re looking for?”

Silence.

“My job,” you answer evenly.

“Exactly. See, and that’s why there’s no such things as friends!”

“You didn’t always think like that.”

“Yeah, well, kids are stupid. What can you expect?”

You move across the room, skirting around your bed, and reach out with your hands to feel where she’s at exactly. Vriska huffs and moves out of reach so you swing your stick, partially in anger, and she grabs the end. Now that you know where she’s at, you go to her and place your hands on her shoulders. She’s gotten taller than when you first met her years ago and height isn’t really a good trait of your family so you crane your neck so you’re hopefully looking her in the eyes.

“You’re not stupid, Vriska. Not now, not ever.”

“You’re stupid then,” she sneers but doesn’t move away.

“If caring about my friend makes me stupid, than yeah, maybe I am, but I know you. You were the girl that held my hand so I wouldn’t get lost my first week of school. You do dumb things, yeah, but it doesn’t make you bad. You… Vriska, you’re not your mother.”

She shoves you away. It’s a chord you didn’t want to strum but she needed to know. She needs to know that as badly as she wants to be just like her mother, she wasn’t her. Vriska was a better person than her mother, but she doesn’t give you a chance to say any of that. Vriska stomps past you and you hear her pause at the doorway.

“I came here today to just tell you, fuck off, ‘Rezi. Stay out of my life, okay? I don’t need friends. I don’t need you.” Her voice is cold as she speaks. “I’ll be fine without anyone but myself. Got that?”

“Vriska, don’t do this. Stop being a drama queen for once and listen to reason!”

“Go to hell!”

You follow her to the front door and when she tries to open the door, you kick it closed. In return, she punches you in the stomach and shoves you against the wall. You jab the round end of your walking stick down hard on her foot and she curses, slapping it out of your hand in turn. When you try to push her off of you, she uses her forearm to pin you by the throat against the wall, but you don’t stay still without putting some scratches into her skin first.

“See, now you’re being stupid,” you tell her. “Being all dramatic like this, for what? What the hell are proving by any of this? Trying to put together some awesome story to write back to your mom so she can be proud of her badass little girl?”

“I’m being smart for once! I’m cutting the dead weight out of my life and I’m going to be so badass you won’t even know what to do when you hear about! It’s going to brilliant!”

“It’s going to be stupid! Just because you pick fights with boys and shoplift shit to sell on the street doesn’t make you badass. Being sad and alone doesn’t make you badass! Going to juvvie or jail doesn’t make you badass either! You know what makes you badass? Sticking to the right path despite all the odds stacked against you. Walking down the street with your head up high and knowing you’re a better person than what people thought you should be. Being my friend makes you badass! You know why? Because we’re sisters – Remember? Scourge Sisters ‘til the end of time? What happened to that?”

“We were dumb nine-year-olds making stupid declarations. Maybe we were badass together for a while, but people grow up. I grew up while you apparently didn’t, for instance.”

Vriska leans her face against your ear and you can feel something wet touch your cheek – she’s crying, you realize.

“It’s time we walked our destined paths. Goodbye, ‘Rezi.”

She slams her fist first into your stomach again and when you wince and lean forward, she slams her fist into your face, knocking you to the floor. You hear her undo the locks on the door and you try one last time to reach her.

“Vriska, don’t do this.”

She laughs, the sound is sad to your ears. “See you on the other side.”

The door slams closed and you can hear her footsteps fade off past it. You shiver because of the cold apartment and your still damp clothes, and possibly, because you begin sobbing into your forearm. You’re not in physical pain - a bit, but not that much. But you are hurting right now. 

You’re pretty sure right now that nothing could hurt more than heartbreak.

**END OF INTERMISSION 1**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In happy news, the next update is complete so it'll be on time. xD Sorry for being late these last few updates.
> 
> And as you just read, this is the end of Intermission 1! All the sad Scourge Sisters feelz are over for now. =( Expect more in the future though.
> 
> Comments are love and general love is loved too! xD Also, questions? Ask them!


	27. John: Make plans

**> ==> John: Make plans**

_(October 11th, Thursday - 17:13pm)_

It's been exactly one month since school began and you're feeling a little... Lonely. You haven't really spoken to or seen your friends much lately - at least not long enough to really call it seeing them. In the mornings, you see Rose and Jade for a little while before you all have to head into school, so there is that, but fifteen or twenty minutes doesn't feel like enough. And Dave you've spoken to more over Pesterchum than in person.

This was just weird. The four of you rarely went that long without seeing or talking to each other. It was like, all through middle school and right up to the first day of high school, you all needed each other to breathe - to rant and hang with. Now it felt weird not having them around like that all the time. 

This needs some kind of a remedy you decide. So you tap at the side of your keyboard for a moment before it hits you - you should all do something together this weekend! Oh hell yeah! You just got some great movies for your movie collection too! Including some gems like _Return of the Living Dead Part 2_ and the movie classic - _Point Break_! It's almost shameful it has taken you this long to add it to your collection considering how awesome it is.

That settled, you just need to spread the word to your friends and…

Oh good! Jade's on!

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 17:17pm --

EB: jade I just had a great idea!   
GG: oh????   
GG: wait its not something stupid again   
GG: like that halloween when you wanted us to all dress up like the guys from ghostbusters   
GG: that was so lame even for you!!!    
EB: what!?   
EB: that was a great idea!   
EB: i would've been bill murray and you could've been...   
GG: no stop!!!   
GG: just please?   
GG: :(   
GG: i have a headache right now and just can't stand the thought of getting into this argument again with you   
GG: what was your new idea??   
GG: your hopefully new idea that is    
EB: you suck.   
EB: but fine, I'll share my brilliant idea anyway!   
EB: basically, we should get together this weekend and watch some movies.   
GG: oh that sounds kind of okay    
GG: wait   
GG: you can't pick the movies    
EB: what? why not?   
GG: you have the worst taste in movies of anyone ever!!!!!    
EB: nuh-uh!   
GG: bluh bluh bluh    
GG: yes-huh!    
EB: you just don't understand what it takes for a movie to be great.   
GG: omg yes i do john!!!!   
GG: i know i spent a couple of years with no tv but that doesn't make me blind   
GG: you have shitty taste in movies!!!!!   
GG: like the worst!!!    
EB: :(   
GG: :(   
GG: sorry   
GG: just   
GG: i really have a bad headache right now   
GG: im sorry john   
GG: its a good idea   
GG: i really like it   
GG: even if we have to watch shitty movies   
EB: good?   
EB: sorry about your headache.   
EB: i'll let Rose and Dave know.   
EB: go get some rest, ok?   
GG: ok 

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] ceased being pestered by ectoBiologist [EB] –

Well that was kind of weird, but you know your sister didn’t mean to be a butt. You check your friends list and are disappointed to see Rose and Dave aren’t logged on currently. Actually, you suspect they are, but sometimes they make themselves Invisible to everyone but each other. Ah well, maybe you’ll catch them after dinner!

Wait, do you smell cake baking? Oh fuck. :(

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Chapter 2! =D
> 
> Back to basics! xD Not really, this Chapter takes place over an entire weekend (from Thursday to Monday), so, expect a lot of stuff to happen!
> 
> Thanks, always, for reading! =33


	28. Jade: Go get some rest

**> ==> Jade: Go get some rest**

_(October 11th, Thursday - 17:32pm)_

You will in a little bit. First, you really think you should drink some aspirins because what was once a dull throb is starting to become a howl behind your eyes. Scratching behind your ear, your thoughts somewhere between your final homework assignment and where did you leave the aspirins after the last time you used them. Bec nudges your knee at that moment and you smile at him. Reaching down to scratch his chin, you're surprised when something slightly wet drops into your hand from his mouth.

It's the bottle of aspirins! 

"Good boy, Bec!" You beam.

Hugging him earns you a content _woof_ before he pulls away and hops onto the foot of your bed, quickly getting comfortable. Because he's pretty big, usually he sleeps on the floor, but when he knows you're not feeling well -- and you've yet to figure out he's so attune to your needs all the time -- he lays in your bed so you can cuddle up with him.

"Okay, boy. Give me a second to drink this down."

Going over to the mini-fridge in the corner of your room, you tap out two aspirins from the bottle in your hand, think about it for a second, and tap out one more before you pluck out a bottle of water from the fridge to wash them down. Once that's done, you replace the water bottle and put the bottle of aspirins on the shelf above the mini-fridge where you will likely forget about it the next time you need them.

You're on your way to your bed when your laptop beeps, signifying someone has hit you up on Pesterchum. Bec gives a disapproving tail wag as you reach out and rub his head gently to reassure him.

"I'll be fast," you tell him.

Retrieving the laptop from your floor, you plop down on your bed against your pillows. As Bec's tail brushes against your bare feet you giggle before frowning slightly at the handle of the person messaging you. Who on Earth...?

\-- grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 17:36pm --

GA: Hello   
GA: I Do Not Mean To Be Intrusive   
GG: who is this??    
GA: Sorry   
GA: Its Kanaya   
GA: From Lunch   
GG: :o oh!!   
GG: hi kanaya!   
GG: er......   
GG: how did you get my handle?   
GG: i dont remember giving it to you    
GA: ###   
GA: Im Ashamed To Admit I Asked A Hacker Friend Of Mine For His Assistance In The Manner   
GA: Again   
GA: Sorry   
GA: I Mean No Ill Will   
GA: Simply   
GA: I Have A Question Or Two That I Thought You Best To Ask   
GA: If Thats Not A Problem   
GG: er no.......   
GG: i guess not   
GG: ask away!    
GA: Very Well   
GA: I Was Just Perhaps Wondering If You Know Whether Or Not   
GA: Er   
GA: Well   
GG: ???   
GG: i cant help you if you dont ask me a question!!!    
GA: Right Sorry   
GA: I Was Perhaps Wondering If You Could Tell Me More About Your Friend   
GG: friend?   
GG: rose??   
GG: :?    
GA: Si   
GA: Rose   
GG: oh!!!   
GG: sure!   
GG: what would you like to know?    
GA: Shes Often So Silent At Lunch And In The Past Month Ive Pried Little To Almost No Information From Her About Herself   
GA: Is She Always So Reluctant To Speak To Strangers   
GA: Or Did I Perhaps Offend Her Somehow   
GA: Lo Siento If So   
GG: i dont think youve offended her in any way   
GG: she hasnt said anything if you have!   
GG: but i do find it somewhat unusual how silent she becomes at lunch!!!   
GG: maybe shes just really hungry by then   
GG: or her stomach is upset from that shitty mcdonalds breakfast she likes to eat every morning??   
GG: :x i know mine would be    
GA:    
GG: no offense if you like that crap!!! :o    
GA: None Taken   
GA: I Was Just Thinking   
GA: Could You Perhaps Inform Me Of A Way For Me To Gain Her Favor So I Dont Feel As If Im Speaking To A Wall Everyday   
GA: Not That I Consider Rose A Wall   
GA: Just That I Wish She Would Speak More Often   
GA: To Me   
GA: That Is   
GG: hmm.......   
GG: well im not sure!   
GG: i thought she would have warmed up to you by now   
GG: you two seem to like so many of the same things!   
GG: maybe you two should hang out outside of school?    
GA: Hang Out Outside Of School   
GA: Yes That Sounds Like An Opportune Idea   
GA: Gracias Jade   
GG: no problem!!!   
GG: :)   
GG: hey can i ask you something?    
GA: Of Course   
GG: do you like rose??    
GA: She Is A Fascinating Individual   
GA: Albeit Frustratingly Enigmatic   
GG: bluh bluh bluh   
GG: no!   
GG: i mean do you like her like her?????    
GA: I Enjoy Her Company   
GA: Yes   
GA: Or Rather   
GA: I Would Like To Enjoy Her Company   
GA: Once I Get To Know Her Better   
GA: Not To Say I Do Not Enjoy Her Company At All   
GA: But As I Mentioned Previously   
GA: About The Wall Thing And How Rose Is Like One   
GG: er that seems confusing......   
GG: i think i just really need to take a nap right now   
GG: my dog isnt happy ive been talking to you for so long either!    
GA: Thats Rather Peculiar   
GG: i know!!!   
GG: but he means well!!   
GG: ill talk to you tomorrow!!!    
GA: Yes Okay   
GA: Thank You Once Again For Your Advice   
GG: yeah!!! :) 

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] ceased being pestered by grimAuxiliatrix [GA] --

Closing your laptop, you feel really sleepy. Bec, during your conversation with Kanaya, shifted around so his head was competing with your laptop for lap space. Your head still hurts, not as much as before but enough for you to take off your glasses and set them with your laptop on your nightstand. Stretching out your body, you snuggle your face into Bec's warm fur and yawn once before falling asleep.


	29. Be the vamp chick

**== > Be the vamp chick**

_(October 11th, Thursday - 17:51pm)_

You exit the conversation with Jade and lounge back against your pile of pillows. It's comfortable enough to sleep here if you wanted, and you have many times in the past, usually with one of the countless trashy books neatly stacked away in bookcases all around you clenched in your hands. Today, you will not fall asleep in the comfort of your pillow pile, no matter how tempting it is. Besides, the sun is still out and you love to watch it create and chase shadows along your walls and floor. Briefly, you contemplate going out onto your roof space and tending to your garden, but you really are damn comfortable where you're at.

Closing your laptop, you set it aside and rest your arms behind your head, closing your eyes against a breeze that drifts in through the open doors to the roof space and the windows of your bedroom. It carries the smell of fall; of leaves changing and the recent harvest of your small vegetable garden. For your recent birthday, your mother promised to get a greenhouse installed for you on your roof space so you could continue your second favorite hobby through the cold New York winter. Sadly the cold was a downside to moving away from the warmth of Puerto Rico, not that you regret it.

A chilly breeze slides up your favorite long, red skirt and you shiver as you turn your thoughts back to the girl that's called your attention, nay, demanded your attention for the past month. You imagine you won't soon be pushing Rose Lalonde from your thoughts, and you doubt you could bear to anyway. It's unusual since you barely know her, but she fascinates you in ways you don't fully understand yet. The romantic in you, the one that has read book upon book upon book of trashy vampire romance novels, whispers pinpricks of ideas. Silently voicing what you seem to know already, though it's far too soon to admit or even acknowledge these ideas. Far, far too soon, unfortunately.

For a while, you’re conscious as you stare up at the ceiling and wonder how to gain Rose's favor. You really want her to like you, but she's so unpredictable and hard to read that it's impossible to know her mind yet. Still, the peeks she's allowed you to see have been fascinating and exciting. You have a notion of where to take her tomorrow, or offer to take her, assuming she doesn't have other plans beforehand or finds some way to abscond out of your offer. 

It's not until your mother is shaking you gently that you realize you fell asleep. Silly you!

"Dinner's ready, Kanaya." She smiles and kisses your forehead when you sit up.

“Graciás, mamá,” you say with a yawn.

Carefully rubbing your eyes so you don't smear your make-up, even though it's only the two of you, you watch your mother exit the room as you attempt to recall what you were just dreaming of. A blush touches your cheeks as you recall blonde hair running through your fingers, violet eyes keenly observing you, and vividly of all, soft lips against your throat.

It's hard to eat dinner that night with the lingering memory of that dream and your mom sitting beside you at the dining table. Damn that Lalonde.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting! I've been sick and I conked out super early last night so I missed my normal post time. ^^;
> 
> And for the curious, the Dolorosa is Kanaya's mom. =)


	30. Be that damn Lalonde

**> ==> Be that damn Lalonde**

_(October 11th, Thursday - 19:11pm)_

It's probably been a full day since you last saw her. Two, if you don't count finding an empty. but still very warm cup on the kitchen table. Mom gives you a sly smile, sauntering by as if she knows some huge secret that she won't tell you unless you throw yourself at her feet and beg -- which you would never do because you’ve inherited your stubborn streak from her and even if you hadn’t, you have too much of your father’s stoic pride to do something so desperate. That's ultimately why you and your mother have so many passive-aggressive wars. Dave had referred to them as 'silly battles' once and you actually considered slapping him. You didn't, of course, but you did remind him of the 'silly battles' he has with Bro, to which he paled visibly. It was a lovely, rare moment of _'oh-shit-I'm-not-so-cool-right-now'_ from your twin, and it was actually exquisite to not only have witnessed it firsthand, but to have been the one to have caused it.

Actually, you tend to do that a lot to him, which is probably why he tries to keep any conversation with you as short as you'll let him.

Mom pulls a blue mug from the cupboard, places a packet of chamomile tea in it, and pours in hot water from the kettle, the scent wafting to you at the doorway of the kitchen like a promise. She then pours something clear from a bottle that you have honestly no idea where she pulled it from since you've been watching her the entire time and didn't see her move to grab anything extra. It was probably up her lab coat sleeve, which really wouldn't surprise you. That would be the least strangest place she has bottles of alcohol hidden at, you unfortunately recall with a small shudder.

"How was school?" she asks, back still to you.

Like she cares.

"Fine."

"Anything interesting happen?"

"Sure. A troupe of circus performers back-flipped down the hallways before spontaneously combusting in midair. You couldn't imagine the scent of their burning acrobatic flesh as it permeated every nook and cranny of the building."

"I'm sure I could imagine the scent." She tapped the spoon she'd been stirring the cup with before taking a careful sip.

"How was… whatever you've been up to?" you ask.

"Fine."

Touché.

"Want some tea?" she asks, finally turning to you and holding her mug up to her lips to cover a smile that you still catch.

"No, thank you."

"Then why did you come to the kitchen?"

Double touché. Your mother is a mastermind of this game.

"Hungry. It's dinnertime - you know, that meal you rarely take part in."

"I already ate." She sips her cup, long.

"That's nice. A regular mother would have thought to prepare a meal for herself and her offspring."

Point for you as she frowns for a second; the expression vanishing just as quickly as it appears.

"It's a good thing you know how to use the microwave, huh?"

"I'm sure I can manage things here once you've left the vicinity, or are you here to make sure I don't get too close to the stove and burn myself?"

"If that's the case, perhaps I should stick around to make sure such a thing is avoided."

Dammit, there goes your point as you frown now. Mission Piss-Off Mom is a bust, you quickly realize. You weren't even aware you were on the mission to begin with actually, so it's just as well.

"Don't you have something to do?"

"Of course, but if one must keep an eye on their child's safety, then one must put that ahead of anything else."

You're almost angry at your stomach for being hungry right now, but you haven't eaten since lunch and it's almost eight at night, which is already somewhat late for dinner but that's simply how things panned out. Deciding against saying anything else, you go to the fridge and settle on making yourself a sandwich to ward off any further commentary about kitchen appliances and your safety as if you're still two years old. Mom watches you without moving her head as you move about the kitchen, conveniently avoiding the area where she's leaning against the counter, sipping away at her tea and booze concoction. It's aggravating, this game of passive-aggressive warfare, but you've found yourself here more often than naught and have learned the best offense is to avoid your mother.

A tasty turkey, Swiss cheese, lettuce, and a dab of mustard creation awaits your consumption in less than five minutes after you set out to make it. You would've added tomato had it not meant you having to cut one, thus using a knife, and thus giving your mother fuel for her game -- you lament the lack of tomato as you clean up after yourself. Your mother remains silent, still watching you with subtle shifts of pink as you grab a can of Sprite from the fridge. Smiling at her, you hold up your meal for her scrutiny.

"Meal accomplished and kitchen cleaned without loss of limb."

She remains silent, sipping again at her drink.

You realize she's probably wasted.

With a sigh, you turn and leave the room, heading up to your bedroom to avoid any further mother-sized headaches. You hear the faucet in the kitchen sink turn on and off behind you, as if your mother is attempting to prove she wasn't plastered. Or to wash away some crumb you overlooked in the sink.

Damn her, she was too good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Lalonde bonding. xD
> 
> Wow, 30 parts already!? =D And almost 3,000 hits!? I think I can officially say that NYCstuck is a hit! xD THANK YOU EVERYONE!


	31. John: Recover from dinner

** >==> John: Recover from dinner **

_(October 11th, Thursday – 19:43pm)_

Dinner was another disaster for you, as most of them have been ever since you swore off all confectionary goods when you were thirteen. Your father and your nanna seriously just can’t seem to understand that you despise every, and all, baked goods, and it has nothing to do with them - your father and your nanna, you mean. It’s just the food itself. It seems, and this probably sounds crazy because yeah, it probably is, but the food seems evil. What’s that saying? If it tastes good, it’s probably really bad for you. Yeah that. 

You’re more than positive that Betty Crocker junk is going to kill you someday. 

Hey, you’re a teenager, you get to not make any kind of sense every once and awhile.

You gargle some mouthwash and spit it into the bathroom sink, unsure which is worst – the burn of the mouthwash or the faintly lingering taste of the slice of red velvet cake you had to choke down to appease your nanna. You knock back a bit more mouthwash deciding the cake wins. 

Going back to your bedroom after running cold water on your tongue to stop the burning, not that it worked much, you’re delighted to see Pesterchum blinking a new message for you. Oh thank gog! It’s Rose!

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] --

TT: I see you left me a message to contact you posthaste about something.  
TT: How may I help you, John?  
TT: Are you having issues again with that thing you refuse to tell our friends about?  
EB: no, definitely not that.  
EB: and that issue pertains to one of our friends, which is why i rather not tell them about it.  
TT: How much longer do you imagine you’ll be able to maintain this ruse to yourself?  
TT: Or them, for that matter?  
TT: Eventually your own denial to yourself and your guilt toward not telling Jade and Dave will crush your fragile psyche.  
TT: If this was ten years in the future, that might not be a huge problem as I would have the job position to care for you personally.  
TT: However, as things stand, if you were to have a mental breakdown tomorrow just because you couldn’t come to terms with this ‘issue’ any longer, you would be at the mercy of countless people that assume they know how your mind works but who are secretly doodling pictures of penises on their note pads.  
EB: bluh, bluh, bluh!  
EB: rose, please don’t psychoanalysis me right now. i was forced to eat cake at dinner and i already told you that i would tell jade and dave when I’m ready.  
EB: i’m pretty sure i won’t suffer a mental breakdown before then!  
TT: Assume what you will then.  
TT: Now, I reiterate my earlier inquiry: How may I help you, John?  
EB: it’s nothing major, but i thought it would be cool if we all got together for a movie night on saturday.  
TT: Sounds like a fine idea.  
TT: Shall we expect John-patented ‘good movies’?  
EB: what’s wrong with my movies?   
EB: jade ripped into my taste in movies earlier too! :(  
TT: I am not ripping into anything aside from a new book before bedtime.  
TT: I am simply pointing out that you enjoy a certain brand of movies that the rest of us find…  
TT: Questionable.  
EB: and what kind of brand is that?  
TT: Not to offend you, but the brand is best classified as Cheesy.  
TT: The name of the brand differs depending on whom you’re asking.  
TT: Dave’s name for the brand is Shitty.  
EB: that’s messed up.  
EB: here I thought you guys were my best friends in the whole world and secretly you’re all bad mouthing my favorite movies behind my back!  
TT: I assure you it’s not like that.  
EB: sounds like it.  
TT: John, it doesn’t even matter.  
TT: How many movie nights have we all gathered around to watch a variety of movies hand selected by you?  
EB: …  
EB: quite a few.  
TT: And how often do you find us chortling at your choices?  
EB: dave groans.  
TT: Dave doesn’t feel cool if he hasn’t made it a point to whine about something.  
EB: he’s not that bad.  
TT: He is that bad.  
TT: He suffers from a needy personality and a whiny disposition to help point out his neediness.  
TT: He uses the coolkid façade to gloss it over and keep others from seeing him as weak.  
EB: i don’t think he’s weak.  
TT: No, he isn’t, but he’s too stubborn to realize that.  
TT: It’s an unfortunate side effect of sharing genes with a woman that plays passive-aggressive games in her sleep and a man that won’t bat an eyelash of expression.  
EB: you family is so screwed up.  
TT: Well aware of the fact, John.  
TT: Speaking of which, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I hear my mother talking to one of the cats in the hallway.  
TT: Which probably means she wants me to feed it because she’s too wasted to sway away from where she’s standing at.  
TT: Or, she’s officially lost control of her mental capabilities once and for all.  
TT: I tend to lean toward the former and hope for the latter.  
EB: right…  
TT: Yeah…  
TT: Movie night sounds like a great idea.  
TT: We’ll discuss it more in the morning.  
TT: Goodnight.  
EB: ok, goodnight!

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased being pestered by tentacleTherapist [TT] –

Okay, that was pretty much weird city, but Rose always manages to find a way to surprise you. You still have yet to get in contact with Dave to tell him about movie night, but he’s ignored all the messages you’ve sent him in the past few hours. You hope he’s okay.

Suddenly, your stomach gurgles.

Oh no.

The cake is coming back to haunt you.

You’re across the floor and out of your room so fast you might as well have been flying. Damn those confectionary goods!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So not only did we blast by the 3k hits mark, but there was well over a hundred new hits, up from about 60/70 on average beforehand! T__T Tears of joy, guys. I have them.
> 
> *hugs everyone*


	32. Jade: Awake with a start

**> ==> Jade: Awake with a start**

_(October 11th, Thursday - 22:17pm)_

You awake with a start and are instantly confused. Something furry is pressed against your body and it's dark in your room, only a sliver of moonlight painting your floor through a slit in-between your curtains. Oh, right, the furry thing is Bec, who huffs through his nose a little at your movements. Groping around blindly for a moment, you pull on your glasses and open up your laptop to see that it's a little past ten at night.

Man, you slept right through dinner!

But what woke you? It wasn't hunger, though now that you're awake, your stomach rolls over and begs a little for some tasty morsels. Easy girl, you think, patting your stomach absently.

You hear one of your Tangle Buddies squish on the opposite side of the room and quickly turn your laptop around to try and see through the dark of your room. At first there's nothing, but then...

"Dave?"

The light from the screen reflects off of Dave’s shades, which you’re surprised he can manage to navigate the dark while still wearing.

"Hey."

He flips on your bedroom light, momentarily blinding you. Shielding your eyes, you frown.

"What the hell?"

"I tried to IM you," he says, as if that completely explains his intrusion.

It takes a good minute for your eyes to adjust properly to the light, and when they do, you easily find Dave still standing beside the light switch, looking disheveled and probably somewhat embarrassed. He doesn't look very steady either and you're across the room without even realizing you moved. You can see he wants to shy away from your outstretched hands, keep up his cool facade, but when you put your arms around his body, he leans into you with a low exhale of breath from his lips. Though there are no visible injuries, that you can immediately see, you know he's hurt. Hurt in a way he'll never tell you about, because he never has before. Whatever, or whomever, it was that hurt him, it's been a long time since it's happen. The last time he showed up unexpectedly like this in your room was more than a year ago.

Dave shudders a breath into your hair that could almost be a sob. Your heart shatters.

"Please tell me, Dave," you beg softly, hugging him tighter.

"I'm fine," he whispers like he doesn't trust himself to speak too much.

With a sigh of defeat, you reluctantly let it go because he's never said anything before and it's not a surprise he's refusing to say anything now. You wish you could get one of your friends to talk to him, but he swore you to secrecy after the first time and if there's one thing Bec's taught you, it's loyalty to a loved one. It’s hard though because you hate keeping secrets from John and Rose.

"I was thinking of maybe grabbing a bite to eat. A late dinner, I guess. Would you like to join me?" you ask after a long time.

"Sure."

With that, you separate from him and smile. Dave looks slightly embarrassed as he smiles softly in return. He even squeezes your hand a little when you take it and lead him out of the room, Bec at your heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mysteries! (And this one I'm mum about. =X Sorry.)


	33. Be someone, somewhere in the city

**> ==> Be someone, somewhere in the city**

_(October 12th, Friday - 00:24am)_

You are a dark figure sitting on the pavement and leaning against the brick wall of an alleyway wall. 

Another dark figure stands a few feet away in front of the other alleyway wall, a spray paint can shaking in its' hand. You watch a black spray hit brick, becoming part of the beautiful picture already in progress. Despite the black of the spray and darkness of the night, vivid colors stand out against the wall. They paint an image of a restless mind, vibrant and chaotic. Yet it all somehow blends together perfectly, leaving a breathtaking image in its wake. After a long time, the figure steps back to admire the view. It takes several more steps back and slides down the wall beside you and releases a breath of air in wonderment.

"Motherfucking miracles."

"Yeah," you agree.

For a long time you both sit in silence staring up at the graffiti in the dim light of the moon before you yawn.

"It's getting late," you say.

"Sorry, Tavbro. Wanna catch some wicked Z's at my place? My uncle's out of town 'til tomorrow."

"Yeah, okay, Gamzee."

Gamzee stands up, stretching his long body out before bending down to pick you up. Even though he's assured you a billion times, you still feel useless and weak whenever he picks you up and helps you into your chair. You've been working on your self-confidence though, so you don't feel as useless as you once did. Still, it's hard not to think of how many times Gamzee has had to help you up and down stairs, out of your chair, and even, embarrassingly, into a bathroom stall. 

You thank him once you're settled in your chair and he ruffles your mohawk playfully before pushing you to his place. It takes a half hour and a bus ride to reach the Upper West Side where Gamzee lives at. It's a beautiful, pricy neighborhood and you love coming here. Gamzee's father and uncle are high class attorneys, but his father spends more time traveling to high paying clientele across the country than being home, so Gamzee lives with his uncle. 

His uncle is not a nice man. He is large, scary, and he makes you feel really uncomfortable. Plus, you really don't think he would approve of the relationship between you and his nephew if he knew the full context of it. Unfortunately, you both suspect he knows, so you both try to keep away from his apartment unless he's out.

"Heya, Makara!" the doorman greets as he holds the door open for the both you. "How's it going, Nitram?"

"Good." You smile at the man as Gamzee fist bumps him and continues wheeling you inside the apartment building. The lobby alone is bigger than the whole apartment where you live at and it’s so beautifully decorated that you almost cried the first time you saw it. The elevator doors are gold plated so you know rent here must cost an arm and a leg, but as you said before, Gamzee's uncle rakes in a lot of money in his profession. Gamzee suspects his father also pays a portion of the rent in exchange for him being able to stay there, because his father is actually a pretty nice guy like that. It would certainly make more sense as to why his uncle lets him stay without making it too big of a thing.

On the twelfth floor, the elevator doors open to a beautifully wooden panel hallway. The carpet probably costs more than what your brother makes in six months and you always worry about tracking mud or something onto it every time you come here. There's only two apartments on the floor, which makes the apartments HUGE. Like, wow.

"Welcome home, motherfucker!" Gamzee cheerfully says as he unlocks the door on the left side of the hallway and lets you wheel yourself inside as he holds open the door.

Yeah, the apartment is just as huge as you mentioned. Like, wow.

It's also sparsely decorated, but clean and you know for a fact that it's only clean because of the maids that come in every other day and clean it up or else this place would be an insane pigsty. It seems Gamzee and his uncle have at least one trait in common, aside from looking alike, and that's being messy. You've been here a few times when the maids had the day or weekend off. It's close to atrocious the mess the two can make. Gamzee dirties up the kitchen at a nightmare speed and his uncle's artistic pursuits in the room set up off of the living room tends to spill out throughout the apartment. They tend to depend on his mood too. The angrier he is about something, the more paint spatter one can find throughout the apartment.

And speaking of Gamzee's uncle's artistic pursuits, the place is decorated with many colorful paintings from him. Some are really cool artistic mosaics of perfectly blended colors, but most of them are dark despite their bright colors. Murderous clowns and rooms covered in rainbow splattered 'blood'. There are a few that contain what you suspect to be decapitated heads in the background.

In short, you try not to look too much at the paintings on the wall.

"Hungry?" Gamzee asks when you're both in his bedroom. He kicks off his Doc Martens and pulls his t-shirt off, flinging both into a corner. 

"A little, but I think I'd rather get some rest. We can have a nice breakfast before school though. I'll cook it," you offer.

Gamzee beams at this. "Fo' sure, motherfucker? Your cooking is bitchtits!"

"Hehe, for sure, Gam."

"Okay, then imma hop into the shower real quick." 

He kisses you on the cheek and you blush when he pulls away just enough so you can see him smiling. "’Less you wanna get your wash on with me right quick?"

A blush burns your face as you quickly catch onto what he's implying and you shake your head hard. "N-no. I'll clean up after you're done, if that's okay. Um, I mean, I know it's okay, b-but..."

"Chill Tavbro. I'm just messing with you." He kisses you on the mouth now, smearing his clown make-up onto your face. "Mostly," he chuckles when he pulls away.

You watch him disappear into bathroom and rub your face to get rid of the blush blazing across your face. It doesn’t help that your fingers come away with your boyfriend’s face paint on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to my own clumsiness, water was spilled on my laptop last Thursday, severely limiting my interwebz access. After much panicking, fretting, unlicensed use of a screwdriver and hair dryer, misuse of rice, depression, and last minute hope, my laptop is dry and in running order! Sans the keyboard for reasons relating to aforementioned misuse of screwdriver, coupled with a lack of laptop anatomy knowledge (basically, I did wrong). Lucky for you guys, I’m creative. Plus, the next two updates were completed muchly beforehand. xD
> 
> Sorry for the disappearing act. =(


	34. Gamzee: Snuggle with your favorite little motherfucker

** >==> Gamzee: Snuggle with your favorite little motherfucker **

_(October 12th, Friday - 01:40am)_

You most certainly will get your snuggle on in a little while.

After your shower, you watch your boyfriend wheel himself into the bathroom and sigh a little when he closes the door. You love that boy, more than anything in your life. If you hadn't met him when you were a much younger motherfucker, you're pretty sure you would be in a nice padded cell somewhere by now, or maybe somewhere worst. 

The thing lately is, you're both getting older now and there are some needs you want to attend to but can't because your boyfriend is too shy. That's cool. You won't ever force him to do anything he doesn't want to, but sometimes there are these little voices in your head whispering to take what you want. 

They scare you so much.

Even thinking about them makes you nervous so you lounge back in bed in your shorts and tank top and turn on your laptop. Maybe one of your best motherfucking friends is on? Oh hey, yeah!

\-- terminallyCapricious [TC] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 1:43am --

TC: hEy BeSt MoThErFuCk FrIeNd!  
CG: OH FUCK.  
CG: WHY IS YOUR ASSHAT FACE STILL UP AT THIS TIME?  
TC: JuSt GoT iN.  
TC: wAiTiNg FoR tAvBrO tO gEt InTo BeD.  
CG: SPARE ME THE DETAILS.  
CG: I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING KNOW.  
TC: HoNk.  
TC: hOw'S iT bEeN hAnGiNg BrO?  
TC: BeEn BiTcHtItS mIsSiNg YoU.  
CG: FUNNY. I'VE BEEN FUCKING THRILLED NOT HAVING TO DEAL WITH YOUR STONED ASS ALL DAY.  
CG: IT'S BEEN A BEAUTIFUL FUCKING VACATION ACTUALLY.  
CG: EXCEPT I STILL HAVE VRISKA RAKING AT MY ASS FOR NO FUCKING REASON.  
CG: FEELS LIKE I TRADED IN A BUSTED CAR FOR THAT CRAZY STALKER CHRISTINE ONE.  
TC: hOnK.  
TC: HoW iS vRi?  
CG: GET THE DOOBIE OUT OF YOUR STUPID MOUTH AND PAY ATTENTION TO THE CONVERSATION SHITSPONGE!  
CG: MY LIFE IS SHIT BECAUSE OF HER!  
TC: i AiN't BeEn SmOkInG nO fInE gReEn.  
TC: TaVbRo MaKeS wIcKeD sAd FrOwNiEs WhEn I dO.  
TC: :o(  
CG: GOOD. I'M GLAD YOU LISTEN TO SOMEONE ABOUT HOW TOXIC THAT SHIT IS TO YOUR BRAIN.  
CG: EVEN IF YOU DO STILL PROBABLY DO IT IN SECRET.  
TC: HoNk.  
CG: YEAH, HONK TO YOU TOO FUCKFACE.   
CG: I'M GOING TO BED NOW.  
CG: TELL NITRAM I SAID HI.  
CG: ONCE HE GETS HIS LIPS OFF...  
CG: NEVERMIND.  
TC: wIlL dO!  
TC: KeEp SaFe LiTtLe MoThErFuCkEr.  
TC: :o)  
CG: FUCK YOU.  
CG: ...  
CG: YOU TOO.  
TC: HoNk.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased being pestered by terminallyCapricious [TC] --

You close the laptop a moment before Tavros exits the bathroom. He's wearing his red boxers and one of your favorite black shirts. It's a bit too long on him, but in your opinion, he looks perfect. He passes a hand through his now floppy mohawk and yawns. Without even questioning it, you jump out of bed and scoop up your boyfriend from his chair, who squeaks in surprises and blushes all adorable like.

"You're a miraculous miracle, bro." You kiss his cheek and then his neck, inhaling his scent.

"Um, if you say so," he laughs.

"I do motherfucking say so."

You carry your prize to bed and lay side by side with him, wasting no time in stealing up some mirthful kisses from minty clean lips. When he finally manages to pull away, giggling, he yawns again and you feel a little bad for keeping him up. It's super late so you pull your comforter up over the two of you, letting him get more comfortable halfway between the extra pillow you keep for him and your shoulder.

"Karkat said hi," you say, yawning a little.

"Eh, that's nice." Tavros kisses your collarbone. "Goodnight, Gam."

"'Night, Tavbro."

You kiss his temple, snuggle down, and fall asleep thinking about the mirthful breakfast you're going to chow down on in a few hours. Motherfucking bitchtits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope those who celebrate Easter had a good day and those that don't celebrate it also had a good to day! =D
> 
> Thanks to everyone that has been reading NYCstuck so far! I lub you guys for helping me push myself this far (especially those that comment, leave kudos, bookmark, and follow on tumblr)! =D Millions of chapters to go! xD


	35. John: Re-enact a Nic Cage film

**> ==> John: Re-enact a Nic Cage film**

_(October 12th, Friday - 15:38pm)_

Sitting at the end of a park bench, you easily envision yourself driving a 1967 Corvette Sting Ray, the very same one from the best movie ever: Con Air. The same breeze that ruffles the leaves above your head blows through your hair as you imagine speeding through the desert with only the motion of the car for a cool breeze beneath the blazing sun. You can hear Cyrus somewhere in the distance, yelling out orders to the other prisoners and something clenches in your gut as you realize you're running on borrowed time. If you don't make this quick, the plane will leave without you, taking your best buddy and that purdy guard lady with it. Your best buddy will die and the lady will too, both in completely different, yet horrible ways. 

No, you can't let that happen.

Speeding up, you see buildings up ahead – is that a red first-aid symbol fading on the side of that well sun-baked wall? Better investigate. You slow the car and park, hopping out of the convertible like the good guy badass you are. With only a brief touch of your fingers against the smooth silver paint job, you leave the car behind. Shit, Cyrus and the others sound like they’re almost done!

Now you're running, your heart slamming against your chest as adrenaline makes you run quicker than normal. You reach the building and quickly paw through everything in sight, but dammit! No needles! You turn to leave and trip over your own two feet. 

What! No fucking way! You tripped on a medical bag conveniently left for you to someday find, though the person that left it behind surely didn't know it was for you -- fate did. Inside, you find exactly what you need. Man, being the good guy sure has its perks! You make haste back to the airplane, but oh no! John Cusack is in your way! What do you do?

The only thing a good guy badass like yourself does – kick all the ass and make it back to the plane barely in the nick of time. Your best buddy gets his insulin and the guard lady is safe for now. 

Time to bring down Cyrus.

Goddamn, you are so amazing right now, you realize with a heroic smirk. In real time, you're standing atop the park bench grinning like the giant derp you are. Man, if only someone had the decency to let you know these kinds of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe.
> 
> Funny story: I actually like Con Air. Okay, not really funny, just randomness. xD


	36. Dave: Be that person

**> ==> Dave: Be that person**

_(October 12th, Friday - 15:38pm)_

Hell no. The kid's drawn a crowd with his dumb roleplaying shenanigans - best to keep your distance while people are still unaware of your friendship with the derp. You consider flashstepping out of there while you still have a chance. Of course, as soon as you have the thought, John makes eye contact with you and beams one of his dumb goofy smiles at you.

Fuck.

"Cyrus! You won't get away with this!" he shouts at you.

Great, now people are looking at you expectantly. Like now it's your fucking duty to entertain them - how is that even a thing? You turn away, planning to make a run because fuck this crazy shit and your even crazier best bro. But John isn't about to make your life easy, or less embarrassing.

"Don't turn your back on me when I'm talking to you, Cyrus! You're going back to prison where you belong!"

Ugh. Fine. If this is going to be a thing you're going to have to play along with, then shit's going down your way - bad guy wins, or at least puts on one hell of a show before giving in to the good derp. Yeah, you're gonna do this. You're gonna make it happen.

Whirling around on your heel, you point at John, not failing to miss the smiles the small crowd breaks out in. "You disappoint me, Poe. Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice..."

You trail off and extract a broken cosplay sword from your backpack. It draws some 'ooo's from the crowd along with a few nervous smiles. Nice.

"Shame on you," you finish, taking a fighting stance.

John isn't put off by the weapon in your hand, smirking like the crazy little derp he is instead at the sight of it. 

"The good guy doesn't need a weapon to take you down," he says and in two steps -- one on the back of the park bench and the other on the low railing behind the park bench -- John launches himself onto the grass behind the railing and makes another 'heroic' stance. 

Not bad for someone nowhere near as skilled as you in things like that. The stance is overkill though.

You hop the railing in one leap and come at him, swinging and jabbing like you're really trying to hit him. Arguably, you are to a certain degree, but not in any way to hurt him. Derp or not, he's still one of your best bros ever. The both of you have practiced some of these pretend sparring matches before so John knows more or less when to duck and jump back to avoid injury.

Still, if you can brain him once and he goes down thus ending this spectacle quicker, then who are you to stop fate?

Over John's movie quoting and your improv comebacks, you can hear the crowd cheering. You risk a few glances at them and catch a few tense faces mixed in with some excited ones. Damn, you really hadn't wanted an adoring crowd, but it's not so bad, especially when you jump at a tree and use the momentum to launch yourself a good four or five feet away, almost conking John on the back of the head. He ducks just in time, rolling to the side and coming up on one knee. The crowd goes batshit.

Okay, maybe this whole roleplaying thing isn't half bad.

Until you spy something moving in the tree branches overhead. What the fuck is that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Branches... o.O And derps.


	37. Be the branches

** >==> Be the branches **

_(October 12th, Friday - 15:44pm)_

Or not, because that's dumb.

Instead, you are someone else. 

You are quiet and lethal all the way up in your safe perch amongst the tree branches. You eye a squirrel with a predatory eye until movement below catches your attention. Looking down you watch two boys play fighting for a long moment, a smile creeping across your face. That...

Looks like so much fun!

You cross to another tree to get a better view on your new prey. As soon as the yellow haired boy lets down his broken toy, you jump down, landing on the black haired boy's back. He screams, high pitched and girly. It's hard not to giggle as you chomp down on your prey, nibbling ferociously on the shell of his ear.

"HOLY SHIT IT GOT ME! IT GOT ME DAVE! HOLY SHIT IT'S EATING ME! I'M GOING TO DIE! DAVE, HELP ME!" your prey screams and flails about as you continue to nibble at your prize.

The boy with the yellow hair stands quiet a few feet away, just watching. It takes a moment before you realize he's trying really, really hard not to laugh. Oh, so cute!

"Dude, it's just a weird little chick on your back, chill the fuck out," he finally says.

"Hey! I'm not weird!" you protest, releasing your prey and landing easily on your feet. He falls to his knees, clutching the side of his head and babbles about his ear being gone. He's a very good roleplayer, you think to yourself.

"Yeah, okay. Jumping out of trees onto random people's heads and chowing down on their ears is totally normal, my bad," the yellow haired boy says.

"I was pretending to be a mighty kitty!"

"Right, that makes sense. Totally would've thought you were maybe a vulture or a cannibalistic hobo crazy lady if you hadn't told me that you were pretending to be a cat."

"A kitty cat," you correct.

"Yeah, a kitty cat. Total different species than your standard run-of-the-mill cat that claws up your curtains and shits in your shoes. The kitty cat, known better by it's scientific name, kitty-catacus-cute-acus, or it's Japanese name, Hello Kitty-acus, is one of the most vicious fuckers in the wild. I'm surprised you didn't rip out my buddy's jugular with all your savage cuteness."

You giggle at the yellow haired boy because he says funny words."Hehe, you say furr-ny things! Want to be friends?"

"I dunno. Be kinda weird befriending a little kid like yourself. Kinda creepy, probably."

"Silly! I'm fifteen years old!" you beam, standing up on your tiptoes so you can look him almost in the eyes - or where you think his eyes are behind his shades. "I go to Troll Irving High School, right over there!" 

You point in the direction of your school even though there are buildings in the way. He looks where you point for a moment before nodding and looking down at the boy still screaming on the ground. Wow, he's a really good roleplayer!

"You hear that, Eg-derp? The kitty cat goes to your school. Maybe you know your feline assailant? Probably seen her scratching around or chasing yarn down the halls or something?"

The boy continues to go on about his ear and you can't help giggling a whole lot at his silliness.

"Jegus, John. Your ear is fine and still attached to your derp head, so chillax already."

The black haired boy finally quiets down and blinks at his friend like an owl. Hehe, hoot!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who! :33
> 
> Nepeta = cutest troll ever. Period. xD


	38. John: Continue to blink owlishly at your friend

** >==> John: Continue to blink owlishly at your friend **

_(October 12th, Friday - 15:51pm)_

What the hell did Dave just say?

Did he just say you were okay?

Seriously?

It takes a long, long moment to realize that you can feel your palm rubbing against your ear as you slowly move it. Okay, yeah, that's a good sign. Looking at your hand, there's no blood - thank GOG. You don't know what you would've done if there had been in-fact blood. Probably would have panicked, screamed, and flailed about it a whole lot more. As it is, you exhale a breath of relief and begin to feel a little silly for your previous reaction. Oh gog, and people were WATCHING, you realize, noticing the small crowd of people a short distance away.

One, two, three... Ah fuck. There's like five people with their phones rolling on you. 

You really wish the kitty cat girl had really killed you because obviously you are never going to live this down in the history of ever.

"So do you recognize her?" Dave asks.

Standing and turning to face your attacker, you take in the petite girl. She's a bit chubby, short brown hair, and lightly tanned skin probably from hanging out in the sun most of the summer. You don't recognize her because you really think you would remember someone with such big and bright olive green colored eyes. Or at least someone that wears a blue skully with a cat face stitched to the front and cat ears poking from the sides of it.

She's smiling this really big, adorable smile at you, by the way. It would've made you blush a little had she not just scared the ever loving shit out of you.

"I've never seen you before. Who are you?" you ask. Despite the fact that you should be pissed at her, you can't help but find yourself curious instead.

"My name is Nepeta!" 

It's almost blinding how much bigger her smile just got.

"Do you two furr-ny guys wanna be my fur-iends?" she asks, big eyes practically sparkling at you like some anime character.

"She keeps saying 'fur', right?" Dave whispers to you. "I'm not just imagining it, right?"

You nod in confirmation, hearing the odd speech quirk too. In all, everything about the girl is just really odd and quirky.

"Um, well, Nepeta. I'm John and I guess if you promise not to jump out of a tree onto me ever again, we could be friends."

Dave snorts and you jab him with your elbow because you know he's choking back a laugh.

"If you can scare the shit like that out of John again some time, we can definitely be friends. Fur-iends, rather. Fur real," Dave says.

Nepeta claps her hands together and bounces where she's standing. Holy shit, she's like made of pure energy, sugar, and maybe even rainbows, you can't help but think in that moment.

"Nepeta! I do hope you haven't been jumping on strangers again."

You and Dave both turn at the same time toward the sound of the deep bass voice that just boomed from behind you. Hey where did the sun go...? 

Oh.

"Dayummmm..." Dave exhales slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanna say that although Hussie went on hiatus, NYCstuck isn't going anywhere. ^-^ I'll keep sane with the writing so you can stay sane with the reading. =D We'll get through this together!
> 
> Now, whether or not I decide to play Hussie-esque mindfuck games is another story. *smiles*


	39. Uh, Nepeta, where did the sun go?

** >==> Uh, Nepeta, where did the sun go? **

_(October 12th, Friday - 15:57pm)_

It didn't go anywhere, silly face!

You run forward and jump up onto the big guy that your new friends are staring up at. He smiles and allows you to perch yourself up on his shoulder where he wraps a protective arm around your legs to make sure you don't fall. So nice!

"Equius, I made new fur-iends!" you gleefully exclaim. "And they're very silly kittens!"

"Nepeta..." Equius says sternly, dropping his smile slowly. You pout.

"I'm sorry for jumping on you before, John-kitten," you say to the black haired boy with an extra sad pout so he knows how very sorry you are.

"It's okay," he says with a smile.

"Not for your underwear it ain't," Dave-kitten says.

"Fuck you."

The two shove each other playfully and you giggle. Equius huffs.

"I do not approve of such obscenities in front of my moirail as she's quite impressionable, but I will still apologize if Nepeta bothered you in any way. I tell her all the time it isn't ladylike for her to jump on people."

"No, it's really okay," John-kitten assures. "And sorry for the obscenity. Uh, also, you're really big. No offense or anything."

"Equius is very strong!" you say, making extra sure to emphasize the word 'strong' with a pump of your arm.

"Quite," Equius agrees with a small nod. You lean back slightly to watch his dark yellow ponytail bob up and down because it's fun to do that, hehe.

Suddenly, your bestest friend in the world tenses up and begins to sweat profusely. You hop off of his shoulder to avoid the mess and look up at Equius in concern. Usually he's very calm and when he breaks out in a sweat like he currently is it's because he's embarrassed, annoyed, shocked, happy, upset, uncomfortable… Actually, Equius sweats a lot so you’re really not sure what’s wrong with him, if anything.

"What is it?" you ask him, tugging his shirt to get his attention.

He doesn't say anything, just stares. So you turn and try to see what he sees but all you see are cars, buildings, and people. Lots of cars, buildings, and people, actually. Ooo, and a squirrel! Mmm....! You feel your ferocious kitty cat instincts begin to kick back in.

Oh Mr Squirrel...! :33 


	40. So, I think we've lost her. Let's be Equius

** >==> So, I think we've lost her. Let's be Equius! **

_(October 12th, Friday - 16:02pm)_

Oh dear. You're sweating profusely right now. Where is a towel when you need one? There might be one in your schoolbag but your limbs are frozen in place. In the crowd ahead of you, you see a familiar face, one you haven't seen in ten years. A cauldron of feelings well in your chest and your strong legs refuse to do anything but remain rooted to the ground. This is all so unexpected.

"Hey nooksniffer," a small, white haired boy greets one of Nepeta's mew - you mean new - friends. You believe it's the one named John.

"Karkat! I thought you wouldn't come!" 

"I was considering it but I figured if I came this one time, you wouldn't harrass me ever again to come hang with you at the park."

John laughs. "You didn't have to come if you didn't want to. I told you that like five times already today. But since you showed..."

"Shut up! Don't be so presumptuous of my reasons to come. I felt sorry for you, that's all. Didn't want you embarrassing yourself in the park all by your pathetic lonesome. Thank you very fucking much, Karkat, for being such a good human being for that. You're welcome, prick. By the way, who's the boulder?"

You really do not approve of this boy's mouth. Thankfully, Nepeta has run off to see to a squirrel she spotted in the vicinity. If you were capable of moving, you would make a hasty exit so as not to sully your ears with the vulgarity of the pale boy's mouth any further. As it is, you've just made eye contact with the person that has caused you to cease motor functions, and she does not appear happy to see you.

"Vriska!" you cry out when it becomes clear she's about to turn around and head back the way she came.

This apparently startles not only her, but also the trio gathered before you. Even Nepeta looks back at you from the tree she is part-way up. Being the center of attention does absolutely nothing to ease your profuse sweating - you absolutely need a towel now. Blessedly, Nepeta runs over to you and produces a towel from either her oversized, olive colored jacket or your schoolbag, you're really not able to focus well enough to decipher which. Either way, you take it with a small nod of thanks and finally find the strength to move your legs.

As you walk toward her, Vriska looks like a fly caught in a spider's web. Clearly she realizes that if she runs, you'll only take off after her and with your long legs, you'll catch her with no troubles. On the other hand, she looks like she wants to rip out your throat for having called her out in the first place.

"You actually know that crazy bitch?" the pale boy asks in surprise as you step past him.

"She's my cousin," you answer sharply, not appreciating the foul language both around Nepeta's ears and toward your blood relation.

You'll have to lecture this boy about manners around women later on as you have something far more pressing to attend to currently. 

Vriska has decided it best to run after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ba-ba-bum! ACTION SCENE!
> 
> Maaaaaaaaybe. =P


	41. Surely this isn't as interesting as whatever Rose is up to. Let’s see…

**> ==> Surely this isn't as interesting as whatever Rose is up to. Let’s see…**

_(October 12th, Friday - 16:12pm)_

You are Rose Lalonde right now, and you are quite anxious at this very moment in time, not that you have any intention to give off any indication of being such. 

A short distance away, one Ms. Kanaya Maryam is bent over a glass display and examining the silver rings with an assortment of alternative designs on their bands. There's one with a silver skull and purple amethyst gems in the eye sockets that really catches your eye, but you remain silent, content with just watching her. You had been surprised when she had invited you to go for a walk with her after school. Up until now, you've been somewhat avoiding her as you quietly sorted out the strange new feelings that arose in you every time you saw Kanaya.

Today, for example, when she came to sit at the lunch table with you and Jade, you couldn't keep your eyes off the V-neckline of her shirt, only able to really pull your gaze from it when she asked you to join her for the aforementioned walk after school. Okay, bad example as you're well aware of the feelings associated with _that_ particular action. The feelings you had meant to refer to were the ones involving your inability to speak normally around the older girl and the constant threat of a blush that wanted to spill across your cheeks any, and every, time she looked at you.

Like she is right now. 

When had she stop looking at the display? Shit, the tips of your ears are beginning to burn.

Focus Rose.

"If it's not too forward, I would be happy to buy you something," she says.

"No doubt you could, but I'm going to politely decline. I have my own allowance of money to blow through. It would be a pity if I didn't give my mother reason to believe I'm anything other than a normal teenager."

"You are anything but a normal teenager." Kanaya smiles softly, in what you assume is amusement and not mockery.

"Correct. I shed my mortal skin and became a witch of eldritch gods quite some time ago. By happenstance, it was decided I would disguise myself as a seemingly innocent teenager to better spread their dark messages."

"That would certainly explain some things."

She goes back to the display with a polite smile on her lips and you look away, embarrassed for reasons you can't or just rather not understand. A few moments later, the two of you exit the store, Kanaya slipping her small bag of merchandise into her messenger bag. You hadn't really paid attention to what she purchased, but you’re positive at the very least she got the silver clawed finger ring she'd pointed out upon your initial entrance. She had seemed quite intrigued by it. You briefly get lost in imagining it digging into your hip as… well, it’s best not to repeat vulgar things such as that. Not when the object of said imagery is looking at you at least.

"Would you care to join me for a bite to eat?"

Are you on the menu?

"Of course," you answer aloud. "Anywhere in particular?"

Kanaya shrugs, somehow making the simple movement elegant and beautiful, or perhaps that's your imagination at play. You begin to walk up the street, biting the inside of your lip as you weave your way through the crowd of people packed onto the narrow sidewalk of St Marks Place. Turning onto Broadway, you throw a glance over your shoulder to make sure Kanaya is still with you. She is, her bottom lip sucked into her mouth slightly as if she wants to say something to you but can't bring herself to do so. You've observed this peculiarity several times in the past where she's fallen silent across from Jade and yourself at the school lunch table. One of her fangs worries away at her bottom lip and it takes a surprising amount of self-control on your behalf not to throw yourself over the table at her.

It's strange how infatuated you've become with someone you've known roughly a month. It's unsettling, actually. You've always prided yourself on your ability to remain neutral in all situations, to the point where people have believed you to be an unfeeling being. That makes you happy. You enjoy being distant from your peers, not counting Jade, John, and Dave, as it suits you just fine to be essentially ignored and thus, left largely alone. Yet everything about Kanaya makes you want to act the contrary, but only around her. You went through something similar around the Egbert siblings, but Dave had ultimately been the one to get you to lower your guard just enough to find out how much you needed them in your life.

This time, however, you're alone, and lowering your guard to anyone new is just short of impossible on your own.

As you reach for the handle of the Chinese fast food restaurant you've randomly decided to lunch at, Kanaya's hand sweeps by yours and pushes the door open for you - the small touch of skin on skin burns in the best possible way. You feel a little jolt of electricity jump up your spine as you nod in thanks before sweeping by her into the questionably clean eating establishment. Surprisingly questionable, really, considering its location next to such a busy little street. Ah well, beggars can’t be choosers. You’re both consulting a menu, together, when you both hear the distinct sound of running. Only, it’s not the simple sound of a jogger or teen playing a prank on their friends; it’s a cacophony that vibrates the glass door and dirty window of the restaurant. Moving toward the door, Kanaya and yourself watch first a blonde haired girl practically fly by, followed shortly by a large, brawny male, then a petite girl with the most ridiculously adorable cat hat you’ve ever seen. Not far behind them is John, accompanied by his recent albino friend – Karkit, or something of that nature – and last, but not least, your brother Dave brings up the rear.

He turns his head when he presumably spies you from his peripheral, his pace slowing until he comes to a stop in front of you and Kanaya.

Until now, you had successfully avoided introducing your brother to the girl your heart writes sonnets a mile long nearly every other night in the sanctity of your bedroom. There’s a small smirk on his lips that sets off all kinds of alarms in your head. When he reaches for the handle of the door, you’re actually tempted to throw your weight against it, but clearly that would set off alarms in Kanaya’s head about your possible insecurities and paranoia. Setting your jaw and straightening your back, you step away from the door and steer yourself for the embarrassment your brother is about to rain upon you.

“Hey, Rose,” he says as he enters.

“Dave,” you say with a nod, but you’re certain he catches the slight affliction of warning in your tone.

“Who’s your friend here?”

“Dave, this is Kanaya. Kanaya, this is my brother, Dave.”

“Buenos, it’s nice to meet you, Dave,” Kanaya says happily, oblivious to what might go down.

“Likewise. Been hearing a lot about you, but I wasn’t sure if you actually existed. Rose has been known to fabricate people of interest.”

“Has she? What possible things do you think she’s fabricated about me?”

They take a seat as you resign yourself to the fact you should probably kill yourself from horror, or at least order some kind of food before you are all thrown out. Placing a hasty order of chicken wings and onion rings, you try to appear calm as you take the seat beside Kanaya to listen in on the rest of their conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this can't possibly go badly for Rose. =)


	42. Dave: Embarrass your sister like a good brother

** >==> Dave: Embarrass your sister like a good brother **

_(October 12th, Friday - 16:27pm)_

Just when you thought you’d finally seen something half interesting, you find something one hundred percent guaranteed interesting or your money back. Rose not only looks like she wants to be beat the ever loving shit out of you, but she looks more uncomfortable than a kid with coulrophobia at a circus. Your sis has never really been into anyone, except for maybe Hermione from Harry Potter when the both of you were a bit younger – not that she’ll admit it but you know she still has a 12¾" Walnut replica wand tucked away somewhere in her room that she probably still takes out from time to time and swings around. When you off-handedly mention this to Kanaya, your sis pales worse than her normal fair complexion which is already exasperated greatly thanks to her black eyeliner and lipstick.

“That’s adorable,” Kanaya giggles.

Rose has a small clench in her jaw when she says, “He’s lying.”

“No reason for me to lie about something as adorable as that. Unless you were going to surprise her with it someday, Rose? Maybe do one of those Harry Potter book re-enactments you use to do for Mom and Bro? I bet you’d get a kick out of that, wouldn’t you, Kanaya?”

“Shut up, you ass. Don’t go embarrassing her,” Rose says, kicking your shin hard beneath the table.

“If I’m embarrassing her, then why are your cheeks getting red?”

“Because I’m mortified of the fact that we’re genetically related,” she says calmly.

Oh shit, you’re so going to get murdered when she gets you alone. Yeah, better just make the most of this shit then. The guy behind the counter calls out an order that Rose reluctantly goes off to retrieve. While she’s gone, you fold your hands in front of you and lean in, fixing Kanaya with a sturdy look. She looks at you curiously but remains silent. Good, you want her to listen.

“You dig my sis?” you ask, point-blank. Fuck pussy-footing the subject.

She nods without even hesitating. “I am quite taken by Rose, yes. Does that bother you?”

“Bother? Nah. Concerns me though. Concerns me like a parent is concerned for their kid the first time they take ‘em to the playground to shovel around in a sandbox used by dogs and bums alike as a toilet. Rose is my other half so I gotta look out for her, whether she likes it or not. Can’t just let anyone be up and thinking they can do as they please with her and just let them go about doing so without putting my foot down and letting ‘em know what’s what. Consequences to do deal with and shit. You understand?”

“I believe so.”

“Good, then we’re both on the same page,” you say and lean a little further in when Rose throws an annoyed glance at you as she hands over some bills to the guy. “I know my sis, okay? I know she digs you too and that’s scary, for both her and I, because you’re the first person I’ve had to sit down and let know that if you break her heart, you and I are going to have some words. I don’t believe in hitting women, a good thing for you since you and I will just exchange words and not blows. Better for you that way, actually.”

Kanaya cocks up an eyebrow and folds her hands in front of her and leans forward in a mockery of your stance.

“Dave,” she says, “I do believe you have me confused for someone that might actually be worried about exchanging words with you. No soy de la calle, pero no tomo la mierda de nadie tampoco. Which translates to: I’m not from the streets, but I don’t take shit from anyone either. I assure you that not only does Rose have nothing to worry about, but neither do you, and I hope you don’t need me to put that into simpler words for you, though I can if you want.”

Oh shit, she’s got a bit of bite to her! Probably explains the fangs, actually.

Rose slides back into her chair as Kanaya straightens her posture and you do the same. There’s suspicion and mistrust written all over Rose’s face that you shrug off.

“What’s going on here?” Rose asks.

“Your brother was enlightening me about his hobbies,” Kanaya answers, smiling softly at her.

Yeah, okay, points to her for covering your ass. You never thought you would like whoever your sis dated, but Kanaya seems to have the right amount of cool in her to be okay. Maybe. Still way too early in whatever they have going to be able to tell. It might not even last. Kanaya could just be Rose’s first real crush of many for all you know. 

Actually, you’re not sure whether or not that comforts you or not.

“Yeah, I was telling her how sicknasty my rhymes are and how I plan to DJ next summer so Bro will stop riding my ass about not doing anything all the time but dick around in the apartment. Might even do some gigs during the holiday season since I’ll be sixteen then,” you say to help further cover your ass.

Rose ain’t really buying it, but she seems content that you haven’t mentioned anymore embarrassing stuff about her. She sets the styrofoam container down in the middle of the table and you all reach for either an onion ring or a chicken wing. Snagging an onion ring for yourself, you lean all the way back in your seat and watch Rose blush lightly when she passes Kanaya the bottle of ketchup from the end of the table. Your sis is happy and Kanaya seems okay, which is all you can really hope for since you can’t be around all the time to make sure Rose is okay.

“Hey, Kan,” you say as you reach for a second ring, “has Rose told you about the weird monster octopus doll she still sleeps with? Calls it Fthulu, of all things.”

If your reflexes were shit, you would have been clocked in the head by not only the salt shaker, but the bottle of ketchup yanked out of Kanaya’s hand. Kanaya looks surprised, but only smiles when Rose composes herself to hang her head in embarrassment and slump slightly in her chair.

“A good name, I think, for a monster octopus doll,” Kanaya says. 

“Thank you,” Rose says with as much stubborn dignity as she can muster.

Hesitantly, Kanaya reaches out and lightly places her hand over Rose’s hand. You wish you had a camera to capture how wide your sister’s eyes get at the gesture, if only to embarrass her later on with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sneezes* Sorry for the slightly late update. ^^;


	43. Vriska: Face the big dude already

** >==> Vriska: Face the big dude already **

_(October 12th, Friday - 16:31pm)_

If you could fly, you SWEAR you would be so fucking far from here that people would forget all about you forever. 

But you can’t fly, so them’s the breaks -- unfortunately for you.

Running from various faceless store owners over the last five or six years of your life has given you some great stamina, but normally you lose them after two or three blocks. This time around, turns out the Sasquatch following you has stamina to rival your own – likely even best it. You catch sight of a street sign – East 2nd – and your legs unceremoniously decide running fifteen or so New York City blocks, while darting past people and cars as fast as you possibly can is more than enough.

Your legs give out, sending you sprawling face first onto the pavement. You skin your elbow when you throw your arm in front of your face to keep from eating the pavement completely. Fuck your life, you think as a large shadow blots out the sun.

“Vriska, are you okay?” a deep bass voice asks. 

A sturdy hand grabs your shoulder and pulls you easily up, but you jerk away a bit too soon and stumble. Again, the sturdy hand grabs your shoulder, keeping you from tipping over again. Growling, you brush the meaty hand away and step back from the concerned look on its owner’s face.

“Get the fuck away from me!” you yell. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I… I don’t understand, Vriska,” Equius says.

You ball your fists, distantly feeling the flow of blood sliding down your forearm from the scrape on your elbow. The adrenaline in your system is pounding your blood so hard you swear you’re going to go deaf any moment.

“Don’t play stupid, Equius, you big fuck,” you yell. It feels good to yell right now because you don’t get to yell enough, or maybe you do it too much. “Your sack of shit father let me go into the system. Who the fuck does that to a little kid?”

The anger explodes throughout your every fiber as you confront an old wound that has plagued you for the last nine years of your life. You don’t even realize you’re screaming until passerbys begin to pause as they step by and you shoot them murderous glares to help them decide that stopping and investigating what’s going on isn’t in their best interests. Equius makes a move toward you and you swing with all of your might and hit him in the bulky area of his chest, the muscle firm against your hand, but he doesn’t even flinch at it. This pisses you off even worst because where the hell is the little kid you use to push to the ground with like two fingers and a blow of air? The skinny little kid that liked wearing his father’s old shades even though they were scratched up and too big for him? The one you teased about loving horses too much?

And what ever happened to the little girl he use to run to when a spider got into one of his toy robots? Or the one that comforted him when he crawled onto her lap after his mother died and cried for two hours straight? What the fuck had happened to those kids you wonder as you try again and again to hurt Equius, to destroy all the memories in your head that haunt you on your darkest days by being too bright and cheery, but it’s all to no avail. 

Equius doesn’t break, much like the memories don’t fade.

He remains silent throughout your tantrum and when you drop your fists, shoulders slumping in a rare display of defeat, he gathers you in his arms and holds you close. It feels so strange, but so familiar; so much like home – the one you had before your life went to shit. You swear to not cry, even though you can feel the shudder of Equius’ chest against your face as he silently sobs. When he gently strokes the back of your head, you throw your arms around him and hug him tightly.

No tears though. You’re all cried out.

Yeah, all cried out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /o\ My hand slipped and I wrote sadstuck this update. Sowwie~
> 
> (I seem to really have trouble not writing Vriska as the tragic character she really is. =\ )


	44. John: What is this even?

** >==> John: What is this even? **

_(October 12th, Friday - 16:33pm)_

You scratch your nose as you watch the big dude hug the mean chick that enjoys tormenting Karkat all the time. What the hell is this even? It feels like you’re intruding on something intimate even though you’re pretty sure the big guy said he was Vriska’s cousin before. Beside you, Karkat looks on in stunned confusion at the clearly tender moment. 

“What,” he says loudly, “the fuck?”

The sound of his voice snaps Vriska out of… whatever the hell she’s going through, and she steps away from the big guy to glare at Karkat. He stares back at her defiantly.

“This is the most human thing I’ve ever seen you do,” he says.

“Shut up, shrimp,” she says and removes her glasses to wipe angrily at her face.

Whoa, is she crying? It’s hard to be certain though because once she drops her arm, it seems as though she wasn’t, but you swore you saw several stray tears on her face when she pulled away just now. It makes you sad, which is weird because Vriska is a total bitch and this is the first time you’ve actually felt bad for her. 

This is the first time you felt… pity, for her.

This is getting too weird, you decide. Looking around you attempt to spy Dave, but he seems to have vanished into thin air. Great.

“Hey, I have to get home soon,” you say to Karkat. “Walk with me to the train, please?”

Karkat looks like he wants to say more to Vriska but shuts his mouth and nods, turning with you and leaving behind Vriska, her cousin, and the weird catgirl who waves happily at you as you leave. You take out your phone to text Dave, asking where he went, and replace it back in your pocket as you wait for his response. Karkat is unusually silent beside you and you nudge him a little.

“Everything okay?” you ask him.

“I don’t know,” he answers. “It’s like, that bitch has fucked with me for years, but…”

“You feel bad for her, don’t you?”

Karkat looks at you in horror. “What the fuck, Egbert? What the fuck is wrong with me? Am I mentally ill?”

You shake your head and pat his shoulder. “No, it’s not like that, I don’t think.”

You go quiet for a moment as you realize how little you actually know about Vriska. It’s only been a month you’ve known her, give or take a few days, but you hadn’t known she was in foster care.

“Did you know? About her in being in foster care?” you ask.

“Yeah, that’s old news. Her mom’s in jail and she got thrown into the system because no one knows who or where her father is, but…” Karkat frowns. “I didn’t know her uncle abandoned her. Hell, I didn’t even know she fucking has an uncle, or a cousin.”

“I wonder if that’s the whole story? That her uncle was all nope about taking her in?”

Karkat laughs, bitterly. “You wanna go back and ask?”

Embarrassment colors your face as you shake your head. It’s not really your place to know stuff like that about someone you barely know. Maybe Karkat deserves to know something like that, but not you.

Yet, you can’t help but be just the slightest bit curious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmm, plot. Tastes like, er, tree bark or something.
> 
> Anyway, just wanted to say hey to everyone that's been reading! Thanks for reading guys! =D We still have a LONG way to go on NYCstuck and if you've hung in this long, or are just joining, I just wanted to say thank you. ^_^


	45. Jade: Check up on Rose

** >==> Jade: Check up on Rose **

_(October 12th, Friday – 18:14pm)_

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 18:14pm --

GG: so how did it go??   
TT: How did what go?   
GG: your date with kanaya!!   
TT: It wasn’t a date.   
GG: oh???   
GG: sounded like a date to me  
GG: kanaya was blushing when she asked you to go for a walk with her  
TT: It was nothing more than two individuals taking a walk and stopping to purchase a few items.   
TT: The meal we shared afterward would have been more pleasant had one Dave Strider not crashed it, though.   
GG: so it was a date!!!   
GG: wait  
GG: what was dave doing there????   
TT: Condemning my future love life to a ghoulish reminder of all my most embarrassing past moments.   
TT: Including allowing my brother to crash my not-date.   
GG: :(   
GG: im sorry rose  
GG: what did kanaya say  
TT: She seemed to have formed a small camaraderie with Dave.   
TT: Even commented favorably on his choice of music.   
TT: I’m unsure whether or not I can handle a possible mate that got on well with Dave, of all people.   
GG: oh stop  
GG: you know it makes you happy  
GG: you love your brother!!!   
TT: The jury remains out on that.   
GG: suuuuure it is  
GG: so how did the not-date end??   
TT: I paid Dave ten dollars to go ahead so Kanaya and I could have a few moments of privacy together.   
GG: oooo!!!!   
TT: Not in that way.   
TT: We simply thanked each other for the pleasant stroll, promised to see each other Monday, and parted ways.   
GG: aww  
GG: no kissing???   
TT: Jade.   
GG: hehe!!!   
GG: no need to be shy!!!   
GG: i know you wanted to kiss her  
GG: right??   
TT: …  
TT: Yes.   
GG: i bet she wanted to kiss you too  
TT: Please.   
TT: After the things Dave told her about my person, I’ll be surprised if she wasn’t merely biding her time until she could escape from my presence.   
GG: i think she likes you too much to care about whatever dave said!!!!   
GG: what did he say anyway  
TT: I refuse to relive a moment of his conversations with Kanaya.   
TT: I am, however, planning my revenge.   
TT: He will pay.   
GG: :o  
GG: dont be too harsh on him  
GG: im sure he was just teasing you!!!   
TT: I am aware of his intents.   
TT: And he is aware of the consequences.   
GG: :o  
GG: um  
GG: youre not going to enact your revenge on him tomorrow at johns movie night are you???   
GG: i dont think john would like that very much  
TT: Fear not.   
TT: My brand of Strider-special revenge takes time and careful planning.   
TT: I am only in the brainstorming cycle at this moment in time.   
GG: oh  
GG: grandpa is calling me for dinner  
GG: ill talk to you tomorrow  
TT: Okay then.   
TT: Talk to you tomorrow.   
GG: please dont kill dave  
TT: Goodnight.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased being pestered by gardenGnostic [GG] --

You stare at the screen in silence for a moment before closing the laptop and setting it at the foot of your bed. You know Rose wouldn’t actually kill Dave, but there’s still a ball of unease in your stomach. Rose CAN be scary sometimes, but she was really nice too.

She was very complex, or rather, enjoyed making herself seem so. She doesn’t fool you though!

Now, to see to some dinner because you are hungry! :)


	46. Equius: Confront your father

** >==> Equius: Confront your father **

_(October 12th, Friday – 21:51pm)_

Ordinarily, you’re accustomed to the lack of your father’s presence. He spends hours upon hours in the garage he’s not only extended, but converted into a mechanics workshop. There he builds anything from car engines to electronic children’s toys to the occasional attempt at robotics. You’ve inherited his flair for building things and use the basement of your house as lab to tinker with robotics and various other mechanical objects. You share the workspace with your uncle Horuss, whom also has a flair for making things.

Though the things your uncle builds tend to make you perspire, quite a lot. 

You largely opt to avoid his part of the basement because of this.

Currently, you’re standing outside your father’s workshop, debating once again whether or not you should you should make your day’s discovery an issue or not. You don’t like to upset your father, or anyone really, but this runs too deep. Before today, you had no idea what had happened to your cousin. Your father told you your aunt Spinneret had moved across the country and hadn’t left an address to contact her at. Further inquiry of this upset your father and so you stopped asking.

Raising a hand to the door, you rapt politely, hoping he didn’t have headphones on and would be unable to hear you. Just in case, you rapt a second time a bit louder, and wait.

“Come in,” comes the deep voice from within.

Obediently, you do so, closing the door behind you. Your father’s workshop is a nightmare of wires and metal; the smell of oil is strong in here. Your father is sitting on a stool in the center of the room, carefully aligning wires in the back of his latest robotic creation, though you’re unsure what it is exactly. He glances up to identify his disturber and nods at the sight of you in greeting.

“What may I do for you, son?” he asks.

You hesitate, again worried of disappointing him with unjust accusations. This time you picture Vriska’s face as she screams at you, beating your chest in her blind rage. When you finally speak, your voice cracks around the first word before you’re able to control yourself.

“Father,” you say,” what exactly became of aunt Spinneret?”

He’s silent for a long time before he speaks.

“You haven’t asked about your aunt in some years, what has brought this about?”

“I—“

“I’d prefer you not lie to me.”

Tears prickle your eyes. “Vriska. I saw Vriska today.”

Your father doesn’t visibly flinch but you know you’ve struck a nerve because his arm tenses as he lets go of the wiring in his hand. He turns now to fully look at you and though he’s still wearing the strange goggles and helmet headset he designed, the thin press of his lips is a dead giveaway to the fact that he’s afraid.

“What did she say?” he asks.

“That you allowed her to be tossed into the foster care system after aunt Spinneret was sent to prison.” You pause, anger seeping in. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you take Vriska in? She said you were the one that said no!”

Removing his gloves and his headset now, you stare into the same blue eyes that look back at you every morning in the reflection of your bathroom mirror. Your father runs a hand through his dirty blonde hair, also the same as yours, though his is somewhat shorter in length, smoothing down any errant strands.

“I didn’t want you find out like this,” he begins, “and I apologize. But you must understand son that your aunt Spinneret and I have never exactly been on equal footing. She and I bickered a great deal as children, and while I earnestly tried for the sake of your grandmother’s ease, Spinneret never made things easy.”

He sighs and reaches for a cup of coffee sitting on a workbench nearby.

“When your aunt was arrested, I put in a request to take over custody of Vriska. As she awaited trail, she sent word for me and told me plainly that she did not want me to take in Vriska. We argued fiercely but she ultimately put a bar on my rights to my own niece!” 

Your father stands and begins pacing, a raw anger still boiling in his chest over the incident.

“I tried for two years to get your cousin but your aunt remained stubborn until the bitter end,” he said.

“Is that the truth?” you dare ask.

“Absolutely.”

You look down at the floor, confused by this revelation. Your aunt had been kind to you when you were a child. She was easy to anger, but you were always a quiet and obedient child and thus, little work for her when your father allowed you to come over and play with Vriska. You can’t understand why she would be so spiteful to her own brother about her own daughter. Yes, your father wasn’t doting, but he wasn’t cold to you either. He always made time to come to your school performances and robotics battles, and even helped you build several projects in the past.

Your father was a good man, so why had your aunt been such a... b*tch?

“Vriska,” your father says, clenching his fist. “How is she?”

You grimace and retrieve your cellphone from your pocket. It hadn’t been easy, but Vriska had allowed you to take one picture of her before the two of you had parted ways. A picture and her Pesterchum name were all that she allowed you to have and know of her personal life. 

When you show your father the picture of Vriska, he sobs. The sound scares you because you had never seen your father cry except for the time you slammed face first in the pavement in front of your house after falling from a ladder when you were ten. Thankfully, you only broke your nose and several teeth in the accident, but that was the all.

But this was different. 

“I swear, I tried to get her, Equius,” your father says.

You nod your head, believing him, because how could you not? He was your father. You are still upset he lied to you when you were younger, but you understand now. And yet there's still so many things you don't understand about this situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. =( And about the sadstuck, yet again. (I think it's safe to assume Vriska's storyline will be just one long sadstuck story.)


	47. Vriska: Deal with the bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally I put my messages at the end, but I thought I should warn for the mentioned child abuse in this chapter. From here on out, I will warn at the beginning of any updates on AO3 for triggery things and I will tag it on the Tumblr (in this case, with TW: child abuse).

** >==> Vriska: Deal with the bitch **

_(October 13th, Saturday – 00:42am)_

It’s been more than an hour you’ve been lingering beneath the tree, staring at the five floor apartment building across the street. The lights in the left four windows of the second floor have been on and that only means one thing for you – trouble. 

Finally, they begin to black out, one by one, and you breathe a sigh of relief. The bitch is going to bed, which means it’s time to head inside. Not that you rush straight in; you wait another twenty minutes or so before you cross the street and push your way into the building. The door in the foyer of the building has a busted lock, again, so you slam your shoulder against it and quickly jog up the stairs to the second floor.

Six, seven, and eight – you stop before the door with the faded faux gold eight above a peekhole and crinkle your nose. You’re not keen on going in, preferably wouldn’t, but you made a promise to someone and it was kinda a big deal for you to keep the promise. Fishing out your key, you unlock the door and hope the bitch didn’t slip the chain in place, again. 

It’s not in place, yay for lucky you. You creep into the apartment slowly, careful to close the door as softly as possible. The apartment is pitch-black, which is both a mixed blessing and a curse for you. It allots you cover, but you’ve both walked right into a kitchen chair, loudly waking up nearly everyone in the building with your cursing, and have been swatted with a broom handle by the bitch that had been lurking in the dark like a spider waiting for its prey to get tangled in its web.

Tonight, neither of those things happen.

You’re actually surprised it’s so easy to get to your room without any nasty little surprises. Feels nice to have your beloved luck working once again FOR YOU as opposed to AGAINST YOU. 

And then you flip on your bedroom light and bite your lip sharply.

“You’re home late.”

The bitch is sitting on the edge of your bed, glaring at you like you were the biggest fuck-up in the world. 

“I got caught in traffic,” you say, trying to keep your voice low and even. “Mom.”

“Yeah, I bet you were just whoring the night away, fucking pig,” she scoffs. “Did you get my stuff?”

You sling your backpack off your shoulder and onto the floor, bending over it and retrieving several bags from inside. Part of you is tempted to throw them at her, tell her to fuck off and get the fuck out of your room now that she has her shit, but you’re not much in the mood for a beating tonight. The bags are tormenting you enough on their own.

“Three Big Macs, three Whoppers, and two pieces of cheesecake from that place you like on the corner.”

You hand the bags over to her and stand back as she checks the bags to make sure you got it right. Once she’s sure everything is right, she smiles blandly as she pulls out a Whopper and unwraps it -- your stomach gurgles pathetically even though you manage to scrap together enough money for a dollar burger and small fries at McDonalds.

“You didn’t fuck with them, did you?” she asks, prying off the top bun with her pudgy fingers. “Because you remember what happened the last time you did something to my food, right?”

Bile gathers at the back of your throat as you nod. She locked you up in a closet for four days without a bite to eat and made sure to cook the most delicious smelling food she could afford with the money the city gave her for taking you in every month; money you never saw. That was one of the few times you were sure you were going to die under your foster mother’s care, but the bitch seemed to know what she was doing, letting you have a cup of water and a single visit to the bathroom each of the four days.

She seems pleased to see nothing amiss with her food and replaces the bun and takes a bite. For a moment she just sits there and eats – polishes off the one burger and gets halfway through the next before she seems to remember or care you’re even there.

Standing, your foster mother towers over you both in height and girth and you do shrink back slightly when she moves pass you toward the door. You hate yourself for being afraid of her, but she’s drilled that fear into you well over the years. At first you were defiant as fuck against her, but she wore you down with food deprivation and verbal and emotional abuse – the physical abuse came later, when she was positive you were too afraid of her to tell your social worker, or anyone really.

You hate yourself worse for that level of cowardice she’s instilled in you.

“Tomorrow I want the same thing, but twofold of everything,” she says.

“I don’t have any more money!” you protest. “And it took me all day to scrape together enough for what I already got!”

“Vriska,” she says sharply and you flinch because she rarely uses your name, “did you hear what I said? Or do I have to repeat myself?”

Repeating herself meant her getting the broom handle; you shake your head.

“I got it… mom,” you force out.

She nods approvingly and exits your bedroom, much to your relief. You sink to the floor beside your backpack and remove your glasses, rubbing your face angrily. For a while you sit there, until you’re certain that she’s either not coming back out of her room anymore tonight or she’s fallen asleep in the mess of food she’s just eaten. Hopefully she’s choked on it.

Retrieving something from your backpack, you slip it up your sleeve just in case the bitch is lurking about still and exit your room. The apartment is kind of small, bigger though than the apartment you and your foster mother lived at before. There you didn’t even have a room – just a bed in the corner of her bedroom with a curtain for privacy. Your social worker kept making it an issue until finally your foster mother finally got off her lazy ass and moved to this place. Here you had your own bedroom, and she hers. 

But there was an extra bedroom and that meant she needed someone to fill it for her twisted, greedy needs.

You come to stand before the extra bedroom and knock lightly before opening the door. Inside is quiet and dark, save for a cheap nightlight behind the door. Slipping into the room and closing the door, you cross over to a bed in the corner and sit lightly at the edge of it.

“Psssssssst,” you hiss, shaking the lump beneath the blanket.

A small head pops up from beneath the blanket and groggily looks at you, recognition slowly coming to dark brown eyes. Small arms encircle you when recognition comes and tawny colored hair is pressed against your face as the small creature hugs you tightly.

“Sorry ‘bout waking you, Casey,” you say, a smile lightly tracing your lips.

“It’s okay,” Casey yawns and smiles brightly up at you. 

“I was going to head to bed but I found this hiding beneath my pillow. I think the Tooth Fairy might’ve gotten the wrong pillow,” you say, removing the blue package hidden up your sleeve. “I think this is yours.”

She beams when she takes it and sees it’s her favorite snack – Oreos!

“Are you really sure, Vris?” Casey asks with wide eyes.

You nod and muss her hair playfully. “Of course, kid. But make sure you hide it in your schoolbag so momma doesn’t see it, okay?”

“’K!”

She scrambles out of bed and obediently does as you’ve told her. Your heart breaks a little at the sight of Casey’s obedience – your foster mother is going to have way too much fun breaking the poor kid with all that blind faith she has in her little kid heart. 

Before Casey, it was only you and the bitch, for too fucking long, and you wished all the time she’d find some other kid to break down the way she did you every single day of your life. Give you a little wiggle room to breathe for once. But when Casey came into the picture a year ago, along with the new apartment, you couldn’t even believe you had been so cold-hearted to think that way. Casey was a good kid, only seven. Her mother had died two years ago from a medical condition of some sort, but Casey remained bright and happy and innocent.

You may be a lot of things, but you weren’t the kind of bitch to allow a bigger bitch to destroy that kind of thing. So you did what you could to keep Casey happy, usually secretly. If your foster mother caught on that you had a soft spot for the girl, she might use it to fuck with you even worse than before. 

“Go back to sleep, kid,” you tell Casey, tucking her back into bed.

She yawns, nods sleepily, and grabs your hand. “Take me to the park tomorrow?”

“I have some irons to deal with tomorrow,” you begin, but she gives you a small pout. Shit. “I’ll take you tomorrow after lunch time, okay?”

She smiles brightly, a single tooth missing in the bottom, front row of teeth, and your chest tightens. You rub her cheek with the back of your hand and pull the blanket up to her chin before turning and leaving.

Back in your room, you collapse onto your bed and suddenly remember the date with a mumbled curse.

Fuck, first Equius, then that bitch, and now…

A tear escapes before you can roll over, remove your glasses, and bury your face into your pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so continues the Vriska sadstuck (we will be taking a small break from it in the next update). Let's see how many people have been paying close enough attention to understand the significance of the date for Vriska. =)
> 
> Also, yes, Vriska's lusus is her foster mother.


	48. Gamzee: Wake up

** >==> Gamzee: Wake up **

_(October 13th, Saturday – 08:21am)_

It’s warm, a little too warm, so you kick off the blanket and as you turn, half asleep, a wicked smell tickles your nose. You pop up into a sitting position with a joyful little _honk_ and look around. You had fallen asleep last night with Tavbro tucked up against you all snug like, but now he was missing and that most definitely answered the question of where that sweet, sweet smell was coming from.

You cross quickly to the door, stick your head out, and the first thing your eyes fall on is your boyfriend propped up in his wheelchair with an apron on. AN APRON. How bitchtits adorable is that shit!? A part of you wants to go over to him, slide onto his lap, and give him mirthful kisses all over his neck and face, but you don’t. 

At the kitchen table, Tavros’ father is sitting quietly with a newspaper. He spies you as he flips the page and gives you a nod of greeting. You return it with a nod and smile back before exiting the bedroom and heading to the bathroom, knocking to make sure Rufioh isn’t inside. The bathroom is empty though, so you go about doing your morning biz. By the time you come out, Rufioh has joined the table and Tavros beams happily at the sight of you, setting a plate of French toast in front of an empty chair.

“Good morning, Gamzee,” he says, rolling up to the empty space beside the chair you’ve just slipped into. “There’s more on the stove if, uh, you want more.”

“Smells motherfuckin’ good,” you say hungrily, picking up your fork. “Thanks.”

“Have any plans for today?” Tavros’ father asks over a cup of coffee.

“Not, uh, yet,” Tavros says with a shrug. 

“After breakfast, could you two walk Tinkerbull then?”

At the sound of his name, a bulldog comes lumbering into the kitchen, barreling straight for Tavros with a happy bark. Your boyfriend laughs and pets the dog’s head with a nod. 

“Yeah, we’ll do it, dad.”

“Thanks. Sorry to run, but I have to get back to the office to check on the sick puppies that came in last night.”

“S’ok,” Tavros smiles as his father pecks a kiss on his forehead.

“Can you drive me over to the comic book store? There’s going to be a Wizard card battle today,” Rufioh asks his father.

Tavros’ father nods and you feel an elbow in your ribs. You gulp down the bite of food in your mouth and speak up before he leaves the room.

“Thanks for letting me spend the night, Mr. Nitram-bro,” you say.

He smiles pleasantly at you. “Anytime, Gamzee. Have fun today guys.”

He pauses like he wants to add something to that but Tavros blushes and you guess nothing really needs to be said beyond that. Not that either of you were even thinking of bumping uglies or anything today. Okay, maybe YOU were, just a bit. Not your fault – the boy makes bangin’ breakfast and lets you cuddle up with him all night, it’s hard not to want to say thanks in a miracle kind of way.

You tell Rufioh bye as he disappears into the living room after his father. As soon as the front door slams shut, you push away from the table a bit of a ways, pull Tavros’ wheelchair back, and scoop him up into your lap. He lets out an adorable squeak, syrup on his lip and chin where his fork bumped into his face when you grabbed him.

“Sorry, bro,” you say and slowly lick his chin and mouth clean of the syrup.

He stares at you looking a little winded for some reason afterwards, and much to your surprise, he attacks your mouth with his. Bitchtits. :o)

Tinkerbull begins barking after a moment though, breaking Tavros out of whatever trance he had gone into. He’s blushing when he pulls away, licking his lips.

“Uh, we should clean up and, uh, take Tinkerbull for a walk, before it gets late and he pees on the floor.”

Shit man, if he got any redder, he’d burn the caramel color right off his own skin. With a smile, you put him back in his chair and he lingers for a moment, blushing still, before taking his plate to the sink. 

“You okay?” you ask.

“Just, uh, eager to take Tinkerbull out. Yeah.”

You’re use to your boyfriend acting a little embarrassed, but there’s something new about this level of embarrassment. You think of pushing a bit more to get him to tell you what’s up, but you know that’ll only make him clam up tighter and the day won’t be as fun. So you let it go, finish your food, and help your boyfriend do the dishes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ^^;;; Hey, is it Monday? Um, sorry about that. I spaced out 100% yesterday and forgot it was Sunday.
> 
> ... And it was def not because I was playing Skyrim.
> 
> Anyway, just thought you guys would enjoy checking up on PB&J this update. =D


	49. Dave: Take a nice long, unnecessary walk to nowhere in particular

** >==> Dave: Take a nice long, unnecessary walk to nowhere in particular **

_(October 13th, Saturday – 09:23am)_

Okay, so that’s bullshit.

You thread your fingers into the wire mesh separating you from jumping into the traffic going by below your feet and rest your forehead against the questionably clean mesh to stare out at the water. Bro decided he wanted you to meet him at work today, but he left you without any money for the train and since it’s Saturday, your school Metrocard doesn’t work. Which meant you had no choice but to walk to the Williamsburg bridge, over it, through the Southside, and up to the Northside of Williamsburg. Not a short walk in the least.

Bro can seriously go fuck himself the next time he makes you come get him from his job, or help him, or whatever the hell he wants you for. Bastard didn’t even tell you.

Not that all the walking is a bother, you have good stamina for this type of stuff thanks to Bro’s constant training and conditioning of you your whole life. That said, it still fucking sucks. It’s Saturday morning – you should be dozing at least until eleven in the morning, get up to fuck around with some half completed beats on your turntable, and just chill until it was time to go to John’s house for a movie night that’ll probably turn into a sleepover because you’re all the kind of derps to fall asleep mid-movie and wake up to the smell of Nanna Egbert’s cooking in the early hours of the morning.

It’s actually pretty fun, not that it would be cool to ever admit it.

For a while you gaze out at the Hudson River, listening to the zooming of cars below and the M train going by behind you. Your thoughts wander to nowhere and everywhere, the sounds of the bridge forming music in your head that you can easily back up with scratches on the record in the right places, crossing it with samples of popular music on the radio – the crowd screams, heat rolling down backs as they dance to your beats. 

You’re nodding away to the imaginary beat in your head and jump, slightly, when something brushes against the back of your legs. Please let it not be a nasty rat, you think as you turn. It’s not a rat, thankfully - it’s a chick about your own age, possibly. She’s a bit shorter than you are but that’s doesn’t really mean much. It takes you a moment to register the walking stick in her hand and how they probably tie into the red shades perched on her nose.

“You bumped me with your stick,” you say. 

You’re not upset about it just feel like making a little conversation, or something. Shit, you really should still be in bed maybe.

“Oh,” she says. “Sorry.”

She continues walking, heading into Brooklyn and you decide you should be doing the same because Bro will kick your ass if you get there after 10:30 – he said so. It does start to feel a little weird to be walking behind the blind chick after a moment or two. Almost like you’re some creeper, stalking up on a new victim to take back to your twisted lair and skin so you can finish making your girl skin bodysuit. 

Seriously, your brain needs to stop rambling off like that. It’s the lack of sleep, most definitely.

You pick up your pace and try to get by the girl, hoping to quickly put some distance between you and her to avoid feeling like a creep. Just as you go to step by her, her stick comes up quickly and stops you from passing with a thwack of stick against your midsection. You quirk your eyebrow at this – what’s this girl’s deal? You try to step by her other side but again the same thing happens.

What the fuck? Is a blind chick fucking with you?

Step to the other side, stick stops you by the midsection. Okay, so yeah, she is. Is she really blind or does she get off on fucking with strangers? 

“What’s the deal with you?” you ask, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your big, red hoodie to warm them from the chill on the bridge.

She shrugs, flashing a smirk at you over her shoulder. 

“Sorry, am I getting in your way or something?” she says. “You could just walk around me.”

“Yeah, no shit. Like you didn’t know I already tried that like three times.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m blind so how could I know something like that?”

Shit, she’s got a sassy little mouth, and a cute smirk.

You kind of like it, but she’s probably batshit crazy.

“Maybe you got time to be flirting with fifty-three year old strangers on the Willie B, but I got places to be, people to see, and all that good shit,” you say. “Emphasis on ‘see’.”

She laughs, a little manically you think – yep, she’s definitely batshit crazy.

“Maybe I can’t see you, but you’re not fifty-three.”

“The hell are saying, girl? I’m 100% fifty-three and three-quarters years old. I remember when it cost twenty-five cents to get on the train. Got a wife and three kids and fourteen grandkids too – they’re waiting for me for our weekly lunch reunion.”

She holds up her arm, pulling back the sleeve of her teal zipper sweater to reveal a watch. Before I can even comment on the point of why would a supposedly blind person would need a watch, she presses a button on the side of the watch and it announces the time, down to the second.

Holy shit, when did they start making watches like that?

“Seems a bit early for lunch,” she says with a smirk.

“Lunch? Nah, I said brunch. See what happens when you’re young and blind? Can’t hear a damn word right,” you reply. “Good thing I’m old and wise and can still hear shit.”

The girl steps up to you, getting right into your personal space with no consideration for the imaginary boundaries set in place by… Is she sniffing you?

“You smell like knock-off Axe,” she says. “You could be fifty-three and three-quarters years old, but your smell and voice sound like the boys in my high school classes.”

“Shit, you got me. Here I thought I was being all smooth and mysterious but you’ve caught on to my creeper ways. I guess this is the part where I abduct you and take you back to my lair for diabolical experiments.”

“Hehe, what’s your name Mr. Diabolical?”

She’s still all up in your personal space and she smells like crayons and lemons, weirdest fucking combination you’ve ever smelled, but for some fucked up reason, it reminds you of home. Time to start reevaluating your life and the people in it, you think.

“Bond,” you say. “Diabolical Bond, esquire.”

Another cackle of maniacal laughter erupts from her.

“I’m detecting some more insincerity on your behalf, Mr. Bond,” she grins.

You crack a smile. How do you not when someone calls you Mr. Bond?

“I’m just on way to my Bro’s job in the Northside. It doesn’t matter who I am. We’re just two random strangers crossing a bridge on some metaphoric trip from adolescence to adulthood and if you keep holding me up, Bro is gonna skin my ass and probably use it to make a new smuppet for his bizarro porno website. Is that what you want, whatever-your-name-is? Do you want to carry that on your conscious until the day you die? My skinned ass as a smuppet will haunt your dreams like some ass phantom.”

The girl finally steps back, probably thinking you’re the batshit crazy one now, but the smirk remains. She holds out a hand toward you. Uh, okay…?

“I’m Terezi Pyrope,” she says when you take it.

“Dave Strider.”

She nods in approval. “Sounds sincere. I’m on my way home, care to walk me part-way there? I live just past the Northside up in Greenpoint.”

“You really trust I’m not some psychopath?”

Terezi flashes her teeth in a wide smile. “Don’t think a blind girl can defend herself, Mr. Coolkid?”

“Coolkid, huh? Yeah, I can dig that.” You smile lightly and take a hold of her bent elbow. “Let’s walk and talk then, Miss Pyrope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dave and Terezi conversations are one of my favorite parts of Homestuck. =) (But haha, this is my first time trying to write one.)


	50. Terezi: You should know better than going with strangers!

** >==> Terezi: You should know better than going with strangers! **

_(October 13th, Saturday – 09:48am)_

Hehehe.

Of course you know better than to head off with strangers but your senses are pretty acute, especially your sense of JUSTICE. You are quite good with detecting insincerity and threats. Most people leave you alone because of your handicap, not realizing that because of it you’re actually a MIGHTY force to be reckoned with.

Hehehe.

When Dave first spoke to you, it piqued your interest. You could smell his awkward adolescence from three yards away but his voice was calm; cool - almost like he didn’t give a single fuck in the world even though he pointed out your not-so-accidental mistake. It struck a chord with you because high school so far has shown one thing to you – no teenage boy really wants anything to do with a blind girl. Not that you were trying to snag one for your own, but conversations with male classmates are usually really, really short and more uncomfortable, on their behalf, than polite.

It’s hard being so mighty. Hard and no one understands.

Dave, however, was a curious case. The more you talked to him, the more he piqued your curiosity, which was fun. It’d been a long time since someone had challenged you on a level you could appreciate.

“It’s none of my business, but what are you doing walking home alone from the City? Especially with the whole bridge and your lack of sight deal?” Dave asks.

“You’re right, it isn’t any of your business, Dave, but I’ll tell you anyway. I had a Saturday class to attend and felt like walking home after.”

“So what, you go to Skaia Bergtruam High School?”

You smirk. “Fishing for some personal information there, aren’t you, coolkid? Be careful, or I might think you were hoping to be able to stalk me during the weekdays.”

“Damn, you must be like some ace detective over there with the way you keep cracking the not-so-mysterious case of Dave Strider, stalker and creeper extraordinaire. If I knew I was this see-through to the blind, I would’ve worn some metaphoric clothes today.”

“A stalker and a criminal deviant,” you tsk. “I bet if I were to bring you in, I could pocket a nice little reward with your name on it.”

“I’ll take a cut of that reward, you know, for allowing you to apprehend me so easily,” Dave says.

“Oh, so you allowed me to do it?” you ask, smiling wide.

Before he can answer, you stick your walking stick out, tripping Dave. He grunts slightly and definitely stumbles, the subtle move of air against your side is clear indication, but he seems to otherwise keep himself well put together. Definite coolkid material.

“I’m pretty sure officers of the law aren’t supposed to mistreat their prisoners,” he says.

“Hehe, good thing I’m not an officer of the law, yet.”

“I see. Bounty hunting shit then. Damn, I really put my foot into it this time then.”

You laugh. “I don’t know what you put your foot into, but if it’s dog crap, I’ll know for sure.”

“You are…” He pauses, sounding thoughtful with a little hmm. “Interesting.”

At a corner, you drub his leg. “That is the shittest pickup line I’ve ever heard. I thought a coolkid like you would be way more suave then ‘interesting’.”

“With the way things are going, seems like you came on to me first,” Dave says. “I guess I’ll just expect you at my door next Friday with my best lipstick on. Be sure to honk your car horn twice so I can give Bro a proper slip from my window.”

“Lipstick? Do you wear a pretty dress with it too?”

“The prettiest fucking dress you would ever see, if you could see that is. There’s lace and frills and the sash that goes around my waist is made of real satin that I made myself.”

You laugh again. “Hehe, I bet you make a beautiful lady, Dave.”

“Damn right.”

“So when are you going to ask me for my phone number?” you ask after a moment of silence.

“Uh? I’m pretty and all, but I gotta warn you – I don’t put out on the first night so I dunno if this would work,” Dave says. “I know you want me for my good looks, but you’re not the first chica to say so.”

“I never said anything like that.”

“Oh. Then give me your number and I’ll check back in a few days to see if you’re still interested.”

You smirk. “Dave, your sarcasm is dripping with both cool and ridiculous amounts of insincerity.”

You pause when you feel something against your hand – it’s Dave’s hand. He presses something hard into your hand and your eyebrows quirk up.

“That’s my phone,” he says. “We should exchange Chumhandles, exchanging phone numbers is outdated.”

“What makes you think I have a Chumhandle?” you ask.

He retracts his hand and there’s an audible sound of palm against forehead.

“Shit, okay… So numbers it is,” he says.

You laugh. “It’s gallowsCalibrator, Dave.”

“Huh?”

“My Chumhandle is gallowsCalibrator,” you repeat.

“Oh.”

He tells you his and you laugh at the momentary drop of his coolkid persona. It’s momentary, but kind of cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More cute Dave and Terezi conversing (because I couldn't resist, sorry (not)).  
> *
> 
> Wow, so fifty updates? O.O FIFTY!? 
> 
> Not only that, but as of the 25th, NYCstuck is now officially SIX MONTHS OLD!! =O WHUUUUUUT!? I'm marking this as a momentous occasion, not because of the length, but because HOLY SHIT I STUCK TO SOMETHING FOR SIX MONTHS WITHOUT QUITTING!!! PH33R M3! XDD
> 
> That said, I just thought I check in with you all. I want your feedback (and your loooooove, bwahahaha - kidding), guys! 
> 
> [Read more of this message at Tumblr!](http://nycstuck.tumblr.com/post/51465703577/taps-mike) (Do check it out, please!)


	51. Dave: Hey Romeo, sorta familiar looking people are heading your way!

** >==> Dave: Hey Romeo, sorta familiar looking people are heading your way! **

_(October 13th, Saturday – 10:02am)_

Romeo? Nah, you’re not planning to do any kind of overly dramatic suicide scene right now.

Wait, is that Wheels and Clownboy up ahead? No wait, not Clownboy - Gamzee, you think?

“Yo, Terezi bro!” Clownboy calls, raising his hand.

“Ah, hey, Terezi,” Wheels says with a smile. A dog at his side barks, panting happily at the sight of your new acquaintance before running up to bump its big head against her legs.

Okay, so maybe Terezi isn’t a complete psycho, you think. And if it her friends were different people, you’d be worried that you were just set up for some kind of un-hilarious prank. As it is, you’re surprised to have run into Wheels and Clownboy again. What was the likelihood you would ever bump into them again even? Shit, it was as likely as finding Jimmy Hoffa’s body buried in your backyard – not likely, but not completely impossible, apparently.

“Hello Tavros and Gamzee,” Terezi says, kneeling. “Helo Tinkerbull. How’s my favorite crime fighting dog?”

Tinkerbull – what kind of name is that? Shit sounds like the name of a _My Little Pony_ , like Tinkershy or Rainbull Dash - barks and slobbers Terezi’s chin. She cackles gleefully. You avert your eyes from the touching moment to nod at Wheels who immediately blushes in recognition.

“S’up?” you ask.

“Uh, you’re the guy from the train,” Tavros says, or asks. It’s hard to tell.

“The motherfucker you were going on about for a week straight?” Gamzee asks.

You can’t help but get the feeling he seems a little… jealous?

Wheels turns a darker shade of red and waves his hands in self-defense. “N-no, it wasn’t like that, Gam! I, uh, just really dug the way he, uh, was singing.”

Terezi smiles teasingly up at you. “You sing, Dave?”

“No,” you say, adjusting your shades, “I rap. Throw down rhymes so phat, bitches don’t know how to handle them. Make your eyes bleed right out of their sockets with the coma-inducing awesome of my lyrical genius.”

You grimace when you realize what you said. Does she have eyes behind her slightly freaky looking red shades? She has to have some, right? Man, but what if she doesn’t, or like, just one and a glass eye? That would be six kinds of freaky and inappropriate of you for saying stupid jizz like that.

As if sensing your sudden unease, she reaches up with her eyebrows quirked up questioningly, and perhaps disbelieving, and pulls down her shades slightly. If she could see, you would totally get the look she was attempting to give you, but with pale, almost ghostly looking eyeballs, it looked more like she had rolled her eyes a little too high and got them stuck that way. You actually can’t help but think your mom was on to something when she used to tell Rose that her eyes would get stuck that way if she kept rolling them at her.

Of course, you use to also interpret that as your mom would smack her so hard that they would stay like that, and with Terezi’s sassy ass mouth, you really could believe that something like that might’ve happened to her.

“Really, coolkid?” she asks, fixing her shades. 

“Shit, we rap too, right, Tavbro?”Gamzee says, looking excited. 

Wheels nods once with wide eyes. “Yeah! We should, uh, have a rap battle!”

These two are way too excited about rapping, probably amateurs like crazy. You can’t deal with lame amateur wannabe rappers, but then, a rap battle would probably be a good way to impress a lady. You glance at your phone, and holy shit, you got less than twenty minutes to get your ass over to Bro’s job before he makes smuppet sashimi out of it!

“Sounds good, but I gotta jet right now. Places to be, asses to save – mine, namely. I’ll grab a rain check on the rap battle. Uh…” You look over at Terezi. “You gonna be cool going the rest of the way home?”

She laughs. “I think I can find my way there, Dave. Hopefully there won’t be any open manholes for me to fall into on the way there.”

You frown.

“I’m kidding,” she says with a grin. “Take your coolkid ass out of here. We’ll continue our chat about you in a pretty dress later on.”

Oh, no. Fuck shit. Not cool.

“That’s personal info, girl.”

She grins and sticks her tongue out at you. “Then I’ll reserve it for tasty blackmail in the future.”

“That’s more like it,” you say with a nod. 

Waving at Clownboy and Wheels, you take off at a run before it gets any later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Run, Dave, run!
> 
> Thanks for the feedback so far! =D 
> 
> And in case you were wondering, yes, Tavros lives in Brooklyn. =P


	52. Vriska: Keep a promise

** >==> Vriska: Keep a promise **

_(October 13th, Saturday – 12:48pm)_

Casey’s sitting on the stoop when you return to the block. You had slipped out long before she woke up to run a few errands, most for your foster mom, some for you. The errands consisted of obtaining money and breakfast for yourself, while the errands for your foster mom consisted of getting her food, using the money you scraped together.

You’d be lying if you said you had a job. You’d be lying worst if you said your source of ‘income’ came from NOT ripping people off in a colorful array of ways. Truthfully, you weren’t proud of the things you did, but you did them well so why not do them? Life was about surviving until the next day, and you had things to do tomorrow, so you did what you needed to make it.

And that’s all there is to say on the matter.

“Vriska, can we go to the park now?” Casey asks after she’s released you from a hug.

“I have to run this up to momma real quick then we can go,” you tell her, motioning to the bag in your hand. You begin to move past her and pause at the door.

“Did you eat?” you ask.

“Mhmm! A tunafish sandwich with a bag of Cheese Doodles!”

You nod in relief, releasing a small breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Of course your foster mother would have fed her. She keeps up appearances the first few years – it’s not until later that she starts to use the food as a punishment and reward. Once Casey is twelve or thirteen, the system will begin to forget her. It’ll get worse the closer she gets to aging out of the system. That’s when that bitch will break her the worst.

Looking away from Casey’s bright smile, you go inside the building. Fuck if you’re going to start feeling guilty about shit you can’t control. Slipping into the apartment, you find yourself free of any foster bitch problems. She’s probably glued to the television in her bedroom - the only television with cable in the whole place - watching one of those shitty trash television shows she loves. Pretty much the only thing she loved aside from food.

You put the bag in the microwave and abscond out of sight before she catches onto your scent. Casey bounces at the sight of you and grabs your hand, holding onto you as she talks about school and her friends and what she wants to do at the park. You force a smile and nod when you think you have to, but your mind is a million miles away.

Reality comes crashing down on you hard when you spot someone from your past.

“Vriska!”

If you weren’t holding Casey’s hand, you would have run, you think. Not that there was really a reason to run.

“Who’s that, Vris?” Casey asks.

“The sister of a friend I use to have,” you answer as Latula comes closer.

“What happen to your friend?”

You’re saved answering thanks to Latula slapping you on the shoulder. She beams a smile at you as her boyfriend -- you barely know him, but you had met him several times in the past, Latula's been dating him since they were in pre-school or some weird shit like that -- came up silently behind her. He nods a greeting at you and you return it in kind.

“Rad girl! I haven’t seen you in forever!” Latula says.

“I’ve been busy.”

“We miss you,” she says with a smile. “Been too quiet without you around.”

“Sorry to hear it,” you say, wishing she’d go away already.

She goes silent for a moment, it’s the only time you can ever remember seeing her not smile, which is surprising. Fucking Pyropes love to smile. When she speaks, her voice is soft, another first for you.

“Terezi misses you. She says she doesn’t but she’s always moping around, spends most of the day either at school or closed up in her room, pouring through her law books. Ma’s proud that she’s studying so hard to follow in her footsteps but we both agree that you were good for Terezi, and likewise, she was good for you too.”

“You trying to imply something about me?” you challenge.

Latula shakes her head. “Never, rad girl. You’re a good girl stuck in a bad situation. Ma looked in to trying to take you in a couple of times, but tu madre has you on some weird ‘no-adopt’ lockdown until you age out of the system.”

You’re glad you’re holding Casey’s hand because your other one is shaking suddenly. Shoving it into your pocket, you fall silent, searching Latula’s face for some kind of hint of a lie, but you only see your reflection in her shades and a sad downturn in the corner of her mouth. Terezi never told you about her mother trying to adopt you. Maybe she didn’t know, you reason, but why did Mom Pyrope never say anything to you? 

And what was this bs about a ‘no-adopt’ lockdown? What the fuck did that even mean? That can’t be right. Of course your mom would want that best for you, wouldn’t she? Just because someone were to adopt you, it wouldn’t make you any less her child. You’d always be a Serket and proud to be one. Latula must be trying to pull a fast one on you, but she was always so cool with you. It didn’t make sense for her to make up shit to guilt you with it.

But it didn’t make sense that your mom would want you to suffer in the foster system until you aged out. There was no fucking way she was that cold-hearted.

Your hand was still shaking though.

“I gotta go,” you say, hastily, stepping past Latula and dragging Casey along.

“Vriska!” Latula says, and you pause because she doesn’t deserve you being a bitch to her. None of the Pyropes do, including…

“What?” you ask without turning around.

“You know what today is, right?”

“Saturday,” you say and begin walking again.

“Call Terezi, she’d like that!” Latula calls after you.

You and Casey walk in silence the rest of the way to the park. Once there, Casey lingers beside you, squeezing your hand softly.

“Was Terezi your friend?” she asks.

“She used to be.”

“Sounds like she really misses you though.”

“So?”

Casey looks up at you with this look that screams someone far older than seven years old. “If my best friend stopped talking to me, I’d be so sad and I would cry all the time.”

There’s a lump in your throat that makes it hard to tell her, “Go play, kid. I’ll be here when you’re done. Stay away from strangers.”

She nods and slowly walks off, almost like she feels bad for leaving you behind.

Guilt and pity parties in your honor galore today, huh? Gog, after yesterday’s whirlwind of bullshit, you should’ve known today would be shitty too. 

Your phone feels heavy in your backpocket though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late update is late. =X
> 
> I think writing about Vriska's fucked up life is one of my favorite things about writing this story. (Just one though! There's many things I love about writing this story! It's more like, writing about Vriska comes easier to me then some of the other characters.)
> 
> XD Also, Latula's boyfriend is obvious to everyone, right?


	53. John: Get some homework done

** >==> John: Get some homework done **

_(October 13th, Saturday – 13:37pm)_

There’s a page of Biology to do and three pages of Algebra II waiting for you to complete but you’re busy building a house of cards from your trick magic cards because that’s WAY more interesting than Biology or Alegbra II. A knock at your door pulls your attention away from the last card you have left to place. Darn.

“Yeah?” you call, leaning back in your chair.

Dad pokes his head in, a willowy stream of smoke following the pipe clutched at the corner of his mouth. You can’t wait to be a cool man like your father someday -- smoking pipes and just being all awesomely dad-like.

“Have you finished your homework, son?”

You sink into your chair a bit. He chuckles lightly.

“Finish up that work before the others get here later, will you champ? Don’t want to have to worry about rushing to do it Sunday night, do we?”

“No, Dad,” you say, straightening up. Your dad is always right about things like this.

“That’s my boy,” he says with a nod.

He ducks out and you think he’s gone until he pops his head back in.

“I baked you a pie in case you got hungry from working too hard on your homework.”

His arm appears as he leans into your room enough to place the still steamy pie on your bedside table.

“Oh. Thanks, Dad.” Your glad you can say that without making a face at the dastardly pie.

“Love you son.”

“Love you too.”

With that, he disappears, closing your door and leaving you alone to stare at the abomination he’s just set down on your bedside table. You turn around and sweep aside your almost complete house of cards, clearing room on your desk for your notebook. Locating the page number for your Biology homework, you flip open the textbook to the corresponding page, put your pen to a page in your notebook, and… Spin around quickly in your seat.

Baked goods cannot be left unattended for any amount of time! 

And it’s hard to forget this one’s presence as the smell of apple and cinnamon waft to you, threatening to suffocate you with its stink. You’ll never understand your Dad’s and Nanna’s fascination with baked goods – can’t they see how evil the stuff really is? Sigh, one day they’ll see the error of their ways.

In the meantime, you have homework to do and there’s an apple pie keeping you from it like the fiend it is. What would Nic Cage do, you wonder, glancing over at one of your many posters of him. Ghost Rider!Cage would burn it; Wicker Man!Cage would get himself burned up by the pie (Christ the horror of THAT occurring); National Treasure!Cage would use it to find one of the many secret treasures hidden around the world. You thoughtfully consider Con Air!Cage approach to the pie. He would probably use it as a weapon against Cyrus to stop him from landing the plane in Vegas. YEAH, that would be a good use for such an evil tool.

Damn, if only you were Nic Cage.

Sighing, you get to your feet and glance around your room for some place to stash it until you can properly get rid of it. Of course, aside from throwing it into your chest or under your bed, or out the window – which you’ve done before, much to your Dad’s disappointment - there’s really nowhere for it. Fine then. You grab your pillowcase, shake your pillow out, and toss the pie inside, then hide the whole thing in your bookbag. Yeah, that should work for now.

Sitting back at your desk, you sigh with relief at your genius and get cracking on that homework before Dave and the girls come over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for the random, silliness of this update. XD Enjoy.


	54. Rose: Pray for the sixth circle of hell to open up and swallow you whole

** >==> Rose: Pray for the sixth circle of hell to open up and swallow you whole **

_(October 13th, Saturday – 15:33pm)_

If only.

Instead, you’re forced to face the horror that is your mother standing beside the front door, a martini in one hand and the silver glint of car keys in the other as she twirls them about her index finger. Her dexterity as she twirls, sips, and eyes you, is nothing short of astounding, but now is not the time for fascination. If anything, now is the time to scream in frustration and absconding before things go where all indicators are pointing for them to go.

Unfortunately, you’re a deer in the headlights of a sadistic motorcyclist. If you hold your breath, you can just hear the heavy hum of engine and pavement peeling away as tires shred them in their wake, motorcycle revving as it screamed toward you. In short, you are royally fucked right now.

“I’be… I’ve been waiting for you, Rosie,” Mom says, a playful tone to her slurred speech.

“I wasn’t aware of giving you the misgivings that I needed a ride anywhere,” you say, saliva growing thick in your mouth.

“Hottie Mr. Egbert called to let me know you would probabes… probably would be spending the night. Figured the leastest I could do was drive you all safely over to his place.”

“Drinking is not exactly a safety precaution to driving a minor anywhere,” you say tightly.

She laughs, drunkenly and too cheery. “Rosie, you are cutest worrywart ever! You know Mommy drives beeter… better with a little something to wet her whistle beforehand.”

Clearly she’s already forgotten her many DUIs, or is choosing, once again, to pretend they don’t exist, much like she pretends not to have a shred of common parental commonsense.

“I’m fine taking public transportation to John’s house,” you say.

“Pfft, come on sweetie. Mommy will get you there in a quarter of the time!”

She opens the front door and slips out before you can raise another protest. Unfortunately, you’ve no choice but to now follow her outside to her bright pink BMW, both embarrassed to be seen in a ten yard radius of it and feeling a deep trepidation concerning your mother’s driving technique. You want to say she’s a better driver when she’s sober, however, you can’t recall a single time when your mother was sober when she slipped behind the wheel. To her credit, she’s never struck, killed, or smashed the car into anything or anyone.

Yet you wonder about the years when you were in diapers and ignorant of your mother’s erratic driving and how many close calls she had with you and Dave strapped into car seats in the backseat like crash-test dummies waiting for an impact.

Your mother slides into the driver’s seat and you pray that in a few months you can obtain your permit and be done with ever having to shudder at the sight of your mother reaching over to unlock the passenger side door for you. She already has the radio on when you climb in, tossing your small purple duffel bag onto the floor at your feet. She sings a few lines of some pop song, off key, as you both slide on your seatbetls and she takes a swig of something from a flask she keeps in the storage compartment by her arm.

That is not a reassuring sight.

The car starts up and you’re on the Whitestone Expressway too soon for comfort. You’ve no idea how your mother manages to slip into practically every available opening without getting hit or hitting another car. You’ve witnessed the side-view mirror on your side of the car literally come within millimeters of a eighteen wheelers’ headlight, yet there was no collision. No thirty car pileup from an eighteen wheeler slamming into a reckless speeding BMW, killing both blonde occupants on impact, thankfully. Yet you imagine it’s only a matter of time before the unfortunate happens. 

So there’s a reasonable excuse for the deep crescents your nails leave in the palm of your hand by the time the expressway gives way to the Grand Central Parkway and then to the less frightening streets of Astoria, Queens; John’s house in sight shortly after. You googled it once, the ride should take some twenty or so minutes from your house to John’s, but a glance at the clock above the radio indicates your mother did it in half that time.

There’s a hint of vomit that tickles the back of your throat before you can swallow it back. Your mother is insane and reckless and she’s going to get herself and/or you killed one of these days with her driving.

“Are you okay?” she asks when she parks the car in front of the Egbert’s home.

The reflection you glimpse in the side-view mirror shows a touch of gray to your complexion.

“I’m fine,” you say, fingers fumbling quickly with the seatbelt button.

“If you’re not feeling well,” your mother says, “I can just take you home.”

Somehow you manage not to scream as you shake your head violently and get the car door open, feet thankful to touch solid ground, though your arm is stuck in the seatbelt. Fuck your life.

As soon as you’ve freed yourself, with some help from your mother, you lean in and grab your duffel bag, catching sight of your mother trying to look at something over your head. Stepping out of the way and turning, you see Mr. Egbert waving at you from the doorway of the house. 

“Helloooooo, Mr. Egbert!” your mom calls from the car.

“Hello, Ms. Lalonde,” he calls back to her as he meets you halfway up the path to the front door to collect your duffel bag from you.

“Take good care of my little Rosie,” she says, and you can practically hear the way she’s smiling at John’s dad.

“Most certainly.” He pats your shoulder before going ahead of you to the house.

Just before you hear the passenger door slam shut, you clearly hear your mother wonk as he disappears into the house. Gross, and embarrassing beyond words.

You turn to the car and see her wave enthusiastically at you, blowing you a kiss, and taking another swig from her flask before she’s a streak of pink down the block. Hopefully she’ll be okay getting home, you hope.

The others are already there when you step into John’s room, and they only have to take one look at you before grimacing.

“Mom drove you here?” Dave asks.

“Unfortunately.”

Jade hugs you when you sink down onto the floor beside her. It brings you an instant sense of comfort and you relax, really, for the first time since before you awoke that morning. It’s good to be somewhere safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> =3 I'm getting the hang of all this worldbuilding. /she says as she posts the 54 update of her forever long fic/
> 
> Btw, writing Rose and Mom interactions is tons of fun (when one is not going for a dark overture to their relationship). X3


	55. Jade: Keep order

** >==> Jade: Keep order **

_(October 13th, Saturday – 16:04pm)_

Someone has to because on movie nights, the boys bicker over what to watch first and Rose usually sits by with an amused smile on her face. You know she’s into dark things but there has to be a point where one’s morbid fascination has to take a backseat to being helpful.

Okay, that’s unfair. Rose does help when things get too crazy. She’ll calmly clear her throat, say something really smart that stumps the boys or makes them feel like the silly little kids they’re acting like, and if she sees that you’ve gotten too flustered, she taps the spot beside her and hugs you to her side until you calm down. She’s really a great friend and moirail!

Right now, the boys are arguing quite loudly over whether we should marathon the first three movies of _Return of the Living Dead_ series or watch the _Day of the Dead_ remake with Nick Cannon. Bec barks and you nod, feeling him completely – this is just bullshit.

“I ain’t trying to hate on your picks,” Dave says, “but the _Day of the Dead_ remake is way better than those shitty Russo films. Everything about them is an outright joke, and I mean that literally since they reek parody all over them.”

“What’s so much better about a half-ass remake of a zombie movie classic?” John shoots back.

“Let’s be real here, the original _Day of the Dead_ sucked. Only cool thing about it was the soldier zombie dude that saluted and shot the gun. The remake, however, is actually creepy. Those fuckers move fast and crawl on the ceilings and walls and scare the shit out of people.”

John snorts. “Yeah, and the soldier zombie guy in that movie is a vegetarian. What a shitty zombie.”

“Oh, excuse me. I forgot how awesome the Thriller zombie was in _Return of the Living Dead 2_.”

“Screw you, Dave! He was awesome!”

“Yeah, and I’m a slice of bread. Pop me into the toaster and butter me up.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“Can’t hear you over the heating coils in the toaster.”

“Gogdammit Dave!”

It can only go downhill from here, you realize so you sigh and heft a pillow in their direction. It bounces off John’s arm and flops harmlessly to the floor. Whoops, you were aiming for the floor space between them.

“Do you two need to argue every movie date? Just pick one and pop it in!” you say.

They look at you as if you just sprouted a new head.

“Jade,” John starts, shaking his head in open-mouthed horror, “it’s not so simple. A good movie sets a good mood to the rest of the day.”

“Which is why we should be scared shitless first, then we’ll have the shitty Russo films to laugh our asses off later,” Dave explains calmly to John.

“The Russo films are way scarier than that crappy remake!”

Oh no, here we go again!

“Like hell they are, Egbert. Name me one thing scary about those shitty films.”

John smiles triumphantly. “Tarman.”

Dave remains silent for a long moment before nodding in reluctance. “Okay, you got points for that one. He’s a creepy fucker all right.”

“Told you!”

“How about this,” Dave says. “We watch the remakes to _Day of the Dead_ and _Dawn of the Dead_ first, and then we marathon the _Return of the Living Dead_ films back-to-back with zero complaints from me. Even if the girls fall asleep on ‘em, I’ll personally watch them with you the rest of the night. Plus, that guy that used to be on Mad TV is in _Day of the Dead_ , so it’s win-win for you, bro.”

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, John nods in agreement. “Deal!”

They shake on it and there’s a sigh from Rose where she’s sitting neatly on John’s bed.

“That was sadly anticlimactic,” she laments. “I almost thought Bec was going to have to be called in to separate you two from all your flirting. There are ladies in the room after all.”

They both blush brightly at this, taking two steps away from each other quickly and shaking their heads.

“Dunno what you’re talking about, sis,” Dave says.

“Yeah, Rose!”

Rose has joked before about Dave and John flirting and while they’ve always laughed it off before, something just doesn’t seem right about it this time around. You glance at the blue rubberband around your thumb, the one there to remind you to find out what John’s supposedly big secret is. The two things most likely aren’t connected, but it does remind you to find out what it is. Maybe before the night is over you’ll know.

“So are we going to watch the movies now or shall we wait for the movies to sprout legs and start playing themselves?” Rose asks, sounding more bored than she actually looks.

You giggle as John scratches his head in embarrassment.

“Yeah, of course, we’ll watch them now,” he says. “We’ll watch _Day of the Dead_ first so it doesn’t interfere too much with Nanna’s dinner.”

“Is your dad baking anything for dessert?” Dave asks, a small smirk playing on his lips.

As expected, your brother shudders.

“Probably,” he answers grimly.

“Fuck yeah. Let’s get this party started then.”

Dave hops easily over Bec, snagging John’s portable DVD movie case as he goes. John bawks, then tries to go after him but he trips over his own feet and lands with a pathetic flop in front of Bec’s nose. Bec huffs and stands, nosing the side of John’s head to get him to get up. When he does, Bec barks at him as if scolding him, and leaves the room ahead of him. 

“I think he’s upset with you for being so doofy,” you giggle, standing.

“Haha, Jade,” John says meekly.

Rose is better at suppressing her laughter, but it’s hard to miss the amused grin on her face as she exits the room, John trudging behind her to avoid any more tripping. By the time you make it downstairs to the living room, Dave’s already popped the movie in and everyone is trying to get comfy in front of the television. You nab the middle couch seat and Rose takes the one to your right. Dave is already sitting to your left and Bec curls up at your feet. Your brother pouts when he turns around from getting the DVD player remote controller.

“Plenty of floor space,” Rose comments. “If Bec will be so kind to share some of it.”

At the sound of his name, Bec lifts his head, looks at John, and puts it down with a yawn. 

“Stop teasing him, guys,” you giggle and scoot over closer to Rose and pat the space between you and Dave. “Come on, John!”

Dave scoots over to the opposite end of the couch to allow as much room for John as possible and he squeezes in between the two of you. Sucks that Dave won’t be sitting by your side for the movie, but your brother and moirail are the next best people to sit beside.

The movie starts and you all watch it quietly. Except for once when Dave jumps and you all snicker at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guess who really likes zombie movies and knows them probably better she should? /coughs/ 
> 
> (Though I do like the first Return of the Living Dead film - two and three are dumb, and at least four and five have continuity running between them to make them just enjoyable enough. Also, Tarman. O.O )  
> ((I also prefer the Day and Dawn of the Dead remakes to their originals.))


	56. Let’s do something hilariously dumb!

** >==> Let’s do something hilariously dumb! **

_(October 13th, Saturday – 18:09pm)_

Yeah, that ain’t gonna rock.

You adjust your ironic shades even though it’s six in the evening and give up the Ghostbusters game John made you try on his computer. Jade and Rose are down in the kitchen, helping Nanna Egbert finish up dinner. The way she made it sound, you’re half expecting a leg of lamb with a side of lasagna and beef stew for an appetizer – actually, you wouldn’t be surprised if that is what the sweet old biddy is working on down there in her kitchen of wonders.

John went to the bathroom a moment ago and you realize that this is the perfect opportunity to give the derp a heart-attack, or try to. It’s the kind of fun shit bros do to each other after all. Right.

The room, aside from being the same half shitty mess it usually is, lacks hiding places in all honesty. His chest is too small for your tall, lean frame, and under the bed is a nightmare of pranks gone wrong, books on ghosts, and magic cards galore. You can’t even remember the last time he messed around with showing you a magic trick so there should be no reason for the carnage beneath the bed. Not like it’s a thing. It’s kind of how Bro enjoys storing shitty cosplay swords in the freezer even though he seems fond of only using one or two of them.

You stare at his closet door, but the last time you went near it, a bucket of apple juice fell on your head. You refuse to waste anymore perfectly good apple juice if you can avoid it.

John’s coming now, you can hear the bathroom door opening and closing as he exits it. Time to improvise.

“Hey Dave, how do you lik—“

The rest of his sentence is cut off when you jump out at him from atop his dresser, behind the door. He shrieks, all high-pitched like a girl, and flails his arms around in panic, slipping on a plastic magic wand on the floor, and falling right on his ass with a… Squish?

You tilt your head and spot part of John’s backpack beneath his ass. What the fuck does he have in here that made such a weird squishy, squelchy sound? John looks part way mortified and part way pissed, but mostly mortified.

“Dude, what do you have in your backpack?” You pause when he stands and flips over the blue backpack. “What is that goo jizzing out of your backpack like that?”

He grimaces, prying it open to get a better look at the damage.

“It’s a pie,” he says.

“You had a pie hidden in your bag? Shit, John, is that why you hate baked goods so much? Are you secretly in love with them like that dude in American Pie was? I bet you were planning to fuck that pie, John. I bet it’s apple and you were going to wait for us to all fall asleep so you could warm it up and fuck it on the kitchen table. Is that something that happens often to you, bro? Like, should I be worried and start looking up the number to Baked Good Anonymous?”

John ignores you, still looking horrified as he pulls the backpack open and you see for the first time that he had it wrapped up in a pillow case. What the dick? 

Based on how he landed on it, the force sent pie insides sputtering out the opening of the pillow case and shit, you’re laughing so hard by this point that you don’t even see when John swings the pillow case at you. The pie tin whacks you on the elbow and you grin as you take up a fighting stance.

“Oh shit, it’s on Egbert. I’m gonna serve your ass so hard, you’ll never secretly molest another baked good again,” you say.

“Fuck you, Dave,” he says. “This is your fault to begin with, and I DO NOT fuck pies! EVER!”

With that, he swings again at you and you step back easily to avoid being hit. Now that you’re aware, it’s harder for him to hit you, but he does clip you with it when you tackle him. Together you land on the bed and bounce off to the floor. You lose your bearings just for a second, but it’s long enough for him to slip his hand into the pillow case and slap you good with pie goo.

“It is apple,” you say, catching a good whiff of the goo now. John blushes super red.

There’s goo in your hair and on the side of your face now, and it is definitely on. You swat away his glasses and wrestle with him for control over the pillow case. He puts up a good fight but somehow you both end up covered in pie goo, laughing like a bunch of idiots. It takes a long time for you to realize you’re being watched.

“Oh no, don’t let our presence disturb this fascinating display of testosterone and immaturity,” Rose says.

Shit.

“We came to escort you two to dinner but it seems as though you’ve skipped straight ahead to dessert.”

Jade giggles. “Maybe we should give them some privacy?”

You and John quickly get to your feet, him squinting at Jade and Rose where they stand just inside the doorway. Taking pity on your best bro, you snag his glasses from the floor and hand them to him. He thanks you, slips them on, and pauses when he notices the way you’re looking at him. A flash of a smirk crossing your lips to confirm whatever he’s thinking.

It is so fucking on.

“You caught us trying to get freak nasty with a pie, girls. We surrender,” you say, holding up your hands.

John raises his too.

“Yeah, we’ll just go clean up real quick before heading down,” he says.

The girls eye you both like you are both the dumbest sacks of shit alive. That doesn’t save them or stop you and John from jumping at them and giving them great big pie hugs. They scream and try to pull away, but eventually they find themselves overpowered and just end up laughing along with you and John, throwing in a few curse words just to make things somewhat even.

“You two have started some heap of trouble,” Jade says when she finally manages to squirm away from John.

“Indeed,” Rose adds, shoving you even after you’ve let her go. “We will repay this in kind. Rest assured we will.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “Let’s just get down to dinner before the food gets cold.”

“My dad is going to freak if he sees us like this,” John says.

You all look down at your clothes. They’re pretty much a disaster. 

“We can say it’s a new trend,” you offer.

“Yeah, no,” John says, mushing you.

Fine. 

It takes fifteen minutes for the four of you to clean yourselves up, change shirts, and clean most of the mess off John’s floor. Dad Egbert lectures you on tardiness but it was pretty much worth it.

And you’re definitely not worried about whatever sort of revenge the girls might cook up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And if I just mathed myself right, update 56 brings us over the 50,000 word mark. AW YISS~! >=D
> 
> And NYCstuck rolls along steadily! <3 Thanks for keeping with me this long guys! 
> 
> (Sorry about the minor delay - I spaced out last night. ^^; )


	57. Tavros: Be in a less hostile environment then Dave

** >==> Tavros: Be in a less hostile environment then Dave **

_(October 13th, Saturday – 19:21pm)_

Then who? Oh! You mean that kid you met today? Uh, you’re definitely in a way hostile place than him.

As it is, you’re chilling on the couch with your legs draped across your boyfriend’s lap, dining on a fine dinner of pizza with mushrooms, sausages, and pineapples. Okay, it’s not a fine dinner, but Gamzee was craving pizza and since your father is working late you figured why not. 

The pineapples were Gamzee’s idea though. Apparently after a recent marathon of Spongebob Squarepants, he can’t seem to get pineapples off his mind. Your boyfriend is kind of odd, you’ll admit, but he’s a great guy.

“What is this again?” he asks, stretching easily forward with his tall frame to nab another slice of pizza from the box on the coffee table.

“Psych,” you answer, almost losing a mushroom to your shirt. “It’s, uh, a crime like show. The guy pretends to be psychic to help solve crimes, and there’s a pineapple hidden in every episode, uh, supposedly.”

“Honk, for real?” Gamzee eyes are wide and alert and he searches the screen eagerly.

“Yeah.’

He loses interest in the pizza as he stares at the television, hoping to catch sight of the pineapple in the episode. You haven’t seen one yet in the twenty minutes or so you’ve been watching it, so there’s a good chance they haven’t slipped one in yet. It would suck though if this was one of those supposed episodes without one, especially now with Gamzee on the hunt. Thankfully he drops his slice onto the plate balanced on your legs – you can’t even begin to count the number of times he’s spaced out on something and has let everything from food to paint to garbage drip to the floor, or on you. You know he doesn’t mean it to happen, but you rather not be dirty with pizza grease right now.

Your mind wanders a bit, maybe because of the four slices of pizza you’ve just had. Something about the greasy, cheesy goodness makes you sleepy and somewhat contemplative. 

“I, uh, wish Terezi had had a birthday party today,” you say, drowsily. “Remember that one her mom threw when she turned thirteen?”

“Honk,” Gamzee replies distractedly. His eyes still affixed to the screen, even though there was a Petco commercial playing.

“It was so much, uh, fun. And that was also when you first kissed me.”

You can’t help blush a little as he blinks and looks over at you with a smile.

“I remember that. I definitely fucking remember that. You had icing on your lips from the cake and were blushing like the cutest motherfucker ever; like you are right now matter of fact.”

He leans over and kisses you. His lips are greasy from the pizza and his face paint, the smell invading your nose as well the taste in your mouth. Usually you would scold him, just a little, about that, but today, you don’t know. Something about today though makes the kiss send a thrill up your spine and before you know it your hands are at his biceps, squeezing the lean muscle beneath your fingers. It feels so good; Gamzee makes you feel so good. 

It’s not until his tongue slips into your mouth and he’s sliding his hand up the back of your shirt that you realize there’s a stirring in your pants, one of the few things you can still feel beneath the waist even though it’s a light feeling, like a tickle or a zap of electricity – there and gone. Embarrassment burns your ears and you make a choked squeak on your lips as you push away suddenly, digging your elbows into the arm of the couch to pull yourself as far back as you can. This causes the plate, forgotten on your legs, to clatter down to the floor where it bangs on the old wood heavily but somehow doesn’t break. The half-eaten pizza goes cheese down on the leg of Gamzee black jeans before falling onto its back on the floor. Tinkerbull, who’d been lurking nearby, waiting for something like this to happen, races forward to gobble up everything he can before you can shoo him away.

Despite all this, the only thing you really notice is the tight press of Gamzee’s lips together even though it’s there for only a second, maybe two.

“I-I’m, uh, sorry, G-Gam,” you sputter, reaching out for his hand and burying your face against the back of it to hide your embarrassment. “I’m s-sorry.”

You feel all wrong and dumb and a multitude of other derogatory things that do nothing for your already low self-esteem. As much as you would like to maybe do ‘that’, you just can’t. Between your useless legs and your lack of self-esteem, there’s the threat of not being able to perform like a normal person. Plus, there’s fear that maybe Gamzee will be so disappointed with you that he’ll leave afterward and never come back. It’s just too much for you to deal with.

Gamzee’s free hand smooths down your Mohawk and slides down to your cheek. You don’t want him to pull your face up because you’re blubbering like a baby onto his other hand and you’re already enough of a mess without him having to see it outright too. His grip is still stronger than your willpower and when he tilts your face up, you can barely see his indigo eyes through your tears. 

“Relax, Tavbro,” he says, his hand stroking your Mohawk again. “Be cool, bro. It’s okay.”

His arms enfold you and despite how good it makes you feel, different than the good you felt just a few moments ago, you still feel like an absolute failure of a person. It takes a moment for you to relax and when you do, he kisses your cheek and wipes your tears away his thumbs. You capture one his hands and nuzzle your cheek into it, feeling pathetic, but calmer than before. The smile he gives you is soft and large, it’s a smile you never seen him give anyone else. It’s a smile just for you.

“Bet a lil motherfucker needs a nap right about now,” he says.

“I’m, uh, not a baby.”

“No one said anything about no babies. Just said I bet a lil motherfucker might feel better with a nap.”

You do still feel a little sleepy from dinner, and even though it’s kind of early for a ‘nap’, it still might not hurt to rest a bit. But first...

“I have to, uh, clean up the pizza. Sorry about that,” you say with a pout.

“Leave that to a motherfucker to do. First though, let’s take you to bed.”

Before you can protest, he rises and pulls you up with him. He slings your legs around his waist and walks you into your bedroom, placing you gently on the bed. With an embarrassed nod of your head, you thank him and he honks before exiting. Making yourself comfortable on the bed, you can hear cabinets opening and closing in the kitchen and feel even worse about yourself. It was your fault the plate dropped so you should be the one to have to clean it up, but it’s doubtful Gamzee will let you argue this.

It takes a few minutes for you to realize it’s perfectly quiet except for the sound of the television. Weird. Suddenly Gamzee bursts into your room, honking and smiling up a storm with a roll of Bounty and cleaning solution in his hands.

“Honk, honk! There was a motherfucking pineapple on the cake!” he exclaims.

Oh shit, you almost forgot about Psych. You burst out laughing so hard that tears form in your eyes and you have to wipe them away before you can even think of replying to him.

“T-told you, uh, that there was a pineapple in nearly every episode,” you finally wheeze out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bluh, I had to do some research for this update and I waited until the last minute, so sorry for the late update. But hopefully I'm handling Tavros' disability properly. /o\
> 
> But hey, a lot of people are here for the pb&j, so here you go!


	58. Terezi: Chat with the coolkid

** >==> Terezi: Chat with the coolkid **

_(October 13th, Saturday – 19:59pm)_

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering gallowsCalibrator [GC]

TG: a couple hours is the proper amount of time to let pass before one hits up a lady after she gives you her chumhandle right  
GC: D3P3NDS ON TH3 L4DY  
GC: M4YB3 1 SHOULDV3 H1T YOU UP SOON3R >]  
TG: maybe  
TG: thought my ladyness was worth a bit more than nine hours of waiting with bated breath  
GC: 1TS WORTH 4T L34ST T3N HOURS OF W41T T1M3 4CTU4LLY  
TG: ouch right in my lady parts  
GC: H3H3  
TG: so hows it hanging  
TG: just wanted to make sure you gave me a legit chumhandle  
TG: this is terezi right  
TG: im not hitting up some random person thats just running along with what im saying  
TG: thatd be weird  
GC: W31RD3R TH4N T3LL1NG 4 STR4NG3R 4BOUT YOUR F3T1SH FOR W34R1NG DR3SS3S??  
TG: i don’t have a fetish for wearing dresses  
TG: i was simply stating a probable truth about how good i’d look in one  
TG: if i had to wear one that is  
TG: not that i ever have  
TG: unless theres something im blocking from my childhood  
TG: i wouldnt be surprised if my mom or sis put me in a dress at some point before i could remember  
TG: shit  
GC: WH4T?  
TG: just asked my sis about it  
TG: unless shes fucking with me like she usually is  
TG: she said yes  
TG: i think shes full of shit  
TG: i hope shes full of shit  
GC: H3H3  
GC: D4V3 YOUR3 SO W31RD >]  
TG: wish that was news to me but it aint  
TG: I was just gifted to be born into such a weirdass family  
GC: T3LL M3 4BOUT YOUR3 F4M1LY D4V3  
TG: lets save that for our third date  
TG: itll probably take up the whole date just so you know  
TG: but I dont want to freak you out too much all at once right now  
GC: 1 TH1NK 1TS CUT3 TH4T YOU TH1NK YOU C4N FR34K M3 OUT TH4T 34S1LY  
GC: HOLD ON 1M G3TT1NG 4NOTH3R H1T UP  


You frown as you check to see who just hit you up. The frown melts away instantly when you realize who it’s from.

**arachnidsGrip [AG] began pestering  gallowsCalibrator [GC]**

AG: Your sister told me to tell you happy birthday.

**arachnidsGrip [AG] ceased pestering  gallowsCalibrator [GC]**

You grip your phone a little too hard, breath coming in uneven bursts. Jumping off your bed, you storm out of your room and shout for Latula. Silence is your only answer, your mom still at work. Latula is probably still at Mituna’s place. 

Quickly you begin texting your sister.

**gallowsCalibrator [GC] began pestering  grungeCaballerial [GC]**

GC: D1D YOU S33 VR1SK4 TOD4Y??  
GC: y34h  
GC: sh3 w4s w4lk1ng down d3k4lb w1th som3 l1ttl3 k1d  
GC: WH4T D1D SH3 S4Y???  
GC: noth1ng much  
GC: pr3tty sur3 sh3 d1dnt r34lly w4nt to sp34k to m3  
GC: 1 r3m1nd3d h3r th4t 1t w4s your b1rthd4y but sh3 brush3d m3 off  
GC: why?? d1d som3th1ng h4pp3n!!?  
GC: SH3 T3XT3D M3 H4PPY B1RTHD4Y  
GC: th4ts 1t?  
GC: Y34H  
GC: 1m on my w4y hom3 t  
GC: OK4Y  
 **gallowsCalibrator [GC] ceased pestering  grungeCaballerial [GC]**

Today is supposed to be a happy day but after hearing from Vriska after so long of not hearing from her, you feel awful. Gogawful, even.

TG: okay  
TG: im still here  
TG: aw shit  
TG: did i get virtually ditched  
TG: suppose i shouldve left the dress talk for the second date  


You laugh a little despite yourself. This Dave kid… You don’t know what is about him that captures your attention so much. You kind of used to feel like this for Karkat, maybe still do, but you don’t see him anymore, not since you both graduated from junior high a couple of months ago. You figured it was probably best to move on from him now that you were older. 

You sniffle, not realizing you’ve been crying, and wipe your nose on your sleeve.

GC: W3 H4V3NT 3V3N B33N ON 4 F1RST D4T3  
TG: want to do something next Friday after school?  
GC: WH4T M4K3S YOU TH1NK 1M 1NT3R3ST3D 1N YOU TH4T W4Y D4V3?  
TG: pfft  
TG: because who could resist the strider charm  
TG: i charmed you from the get-go  
GC: YOUR3 4WFULLY SUR3 OF YOURS3LF D4V3  
TG: part of being a strider  
TG: trufax shit right there  
TG: definition of strider in the dictionary  
TG: cool, ironic, charmer, looks good no matter what he wears  
TG: you cant go against printed truths like that  
GC: SUR3 COOLK1D  
GC: OK4Y  
TG: okay?  
GC: L3TS DO SOM3TH1NG N3XT FR1D4Y  
TG: ok cool  
TG: lets meet up at union square park  
TG: if that works for you  
GC: 1 TH1NK 1 C4N M4N4G3 TH4T  
GC: GOTT4 GO  
GC: SM3LL YOU L4T3R COOLK1D >]

**gallowsCalibrator [GC] ceased being pestered by  turntechGodhead [TG]**

You toss the phone onto your bed, hearing it miss and bounce to the carpet. Oh well. Sitting on the floor, you bring your knees up to your face and try to fight the feeling of nausea rolling around in your stomach.

For once in a long time, you have no idea what the hell you’re doing with your life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of these days I'll write an update with nothing but Terezi and/or Vriska happiness. Today is not that day.


	59. Vriska: Stare in horror at your phone

** >==> Vriska: Stare in horror at your phone **

_(October 13th, Saturday – 20:08pm)_

Did you just…?

Yeah, you’re pretty sure you did.

You’re positive there’s a chatlog record of your stupidity right now on Pesterchum.

Seriously, did you just…?

You’ll never be able to log back into Pesterchum now. They’ll be messages from HER all over the damn place probably and you can’t deal with that. You can’t even deal with the fact that in a momentarily lapse of judgment, you sent you’re ex-best friend a text message at all. What the fuck is wrong with you?

 _You wanted to though_ – a little voice in the back of your mind whispers. _You wanted to because you miss her and because you l—_ SHUT THE FUCK UP! Stupid subconscious with its stupid bullshitty lies.

Fuck, bullshitty isn’t even a word, now you’re just being beyond dumb.

Gog, can you rewind time? Can you make past you not send that fucking message? Can you just…?

UUUUUUUUGH.

There’s a small knock on your bedroom door and you stash the phone quickly beneath your pillow before the door opens. Casey’s holding a cup with a blue bendy straw sticking out from it. She hesitates when she sees your face.

“Are you okay, Vriska?” she asks.

Fucking shit. No, you’re not!

“Me? I’m fine. What’s up?” you say instead, swallowing an ugly lump caught in your throat.

“I made you some chocolate milk as a thank you for taking me to the park today.”

She smiles that adorable missing tooth smile and you feel your heart collapse a little, breaking you in some way you can’t understand.

“Thanks kid,” you manage to say, taking the cup when she holds it out to you.

She sits beside you on the bed and swings her legs while you take a sip from the cup. Not bad.

“Did you call your friend?”

Your throat locks up on the next sip, making it really hard to swallow.

“I sent her a text.”

“Hm,” she says. “I guess that’s okay too. What did she say?”

“I don’t know. She wasn’t on, but she’ll get the message the next time she logs on.”

“Okay, that’s good then.”

Casey nods in agreement with herself and you smile weakly at her, taking another sip to avoid having to add anything more to the conversation. She falls blessedly silent after that and you finish the drink before handing her back the cup.

“Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome!” Another missing tooth grin.

“Go take a shower before it gets any later, kid,” you say, patting her back.

She gets up and pauses, looking you over. You quirk your eyebrow in confusion and are honestly surprised when she gives you a big hug, smiles, and then leaves quickly.

What the hell was that about?

Man, can today just be over already? This whole week seems to have been a clusterfuck of things you just DO NOT NEED. Grabbing your phone, you shut it off so it doesn’t ring and alert the superbitch to its existence and tuck it into your pocket. Probably best if you skiddaddle actually, but Casey likes to say goodnight to you so on the weekends you make the effort to stay in long enough for that. There’s not much to do aside from some math homework but that shit is so ridiculously easy you don’t feel like wasting your time right now with it.

Instead you fetch your notebook from your bookbag and turn to a clean page. Tapping the end of your pen against your chin, you begin writing a letter to your mother, blue ink sliding easily across the page.

_ Hey mom, _

_ I know it’s 8een awhile since I wrote to you but I’ve 8een 8usy with some things. Getting my shit together and all. Kind of 8oring really. School is the same as always, 8ut a little more interesting now that I’m in high school. Karkat is in my class, can you 8elieve it? That little shit is always following me around! I guess I can’t 8lame him 8ecause I am pretty awesome and all. _

_ I haven’t heard from you since last Christmas 8ut I’m sure you’re okay.  _

_ My 8irthday is next month........ _

_ Miss you. _

_ Vriska ::::) _

You pause, staring at the paper uncomfortably for a long moment before adding:

_ P.S. This is pro8a8ly total 8ullshit 8ut I ran into Equius yesterday. He said some crazy shit that just sounds too fucking crazy to 8e true. I’m laughing just thinking a8out how crazy it sounds! _

_ Get this: He said that Uncle DL tried to get custody of me when I was younger, 8ut that you have some weird no-adoption rule or something on me! Crazy, right? Ha, man, that kid must be huffing some serious fumes from Uncle DL’s machinery right? XXXD _

It wasn’t true, of course, but stretching the truth and swapping it to fit your needs was something you were good at. You think of Latula and how sad she looked when she told you about how her mother tried to get custody of you. Not that you needed the Pyrope’s pity or anything, not back then and definitely not now.

But it still makes you wonder, just a little.

For a moment, you consider tearing up the letter, It’s horribly corny and nowhere near as awesome as the several pages long letters your mother sends you. Plus, you’re not really sure you’re comfortable with accusing your mother of anything you heard from a questionable source. You’ve already done one stupid as shit thing today, no reason to do TWO.

In the end, however, you rip the page from your notebook, fold it neatly, and tuck into an envelope. You’ll pick up a stamp from the nearby bodega and stick it in the mailbox before you can seriously begin to question your life decisions.

After all, what’s the actual harm in getting a letter from your mom that basically tells you that that accusation is crazy and dum8 as shit, like holy fuck how could anyone believe that kind of shit? Yeah, you’ll be laughing about this in a few weeks like whatever.

Yep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this'll totes go well. O.o;


	60. Dave: Get the feeling something is wrong

** >==> Dave: Get the feeling something is wrong **

_(October 13th, Saturday – 23:23pm)_

John yawns but keeps his eyes glued to the tv set. You’ve no idea how he’s fucking able to watch this bullshit without wanting to throw himself out a window. He’s got his normal goofy grin spread across his face like butter on a cracker while you just want to either fall asleep or bury your head in quicksand, whichever puts you out of your misery faster.

The girls disappeared upstairs to John’s room over a half hour ago with a thing of ice cream and plans to watch Sisterhood of the Traveling Talking Flying Best Friend Jeans With Benefits And Matching Purse And Shoes or something like that. Sounded a million times better than watching a dumb chick get her brains eaten by her now zombie boyfriend who was clearly going to do it from the moment he got infected. Actually, that’s not as bad as the super cheesy ‘80’s special effects. That shit is a crime against cinema and irony.

Not that you really hate super cheesy ‘80s special effects, just hate them in these shitty Russo movies. 

Saving grace is that this is the second film in the nightmare trilogy you agreed to watch with John and it’s just about halfway over, you hope. You’ll survive this, but damn if you won’t sleep well tonight. Fake blood and innards will probably pave the floor of your dreams tonight, leading you to a place where the shitty movies never stop and John’s doofy grin just gets bigger and bigger until it consumes you whole. Be an irony fuck palace, but just not cool. 

Suddenly you get this sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that has no business being there. Like being on a rollercoaster and dropping down a big hill of screaming limbs and flailing metal.

“John, do you…” you trail off, realizing ‘feel that’ probably sounds like an idiot thing to say.

He glances over at you and rolls his eyes.

“If you’re trying to freak me out or something, it’s not going to work,” he says.

“I’m not trying to freak you out, but something feels wrong.”

A curious eyebrow arches up at you. “You feeling okay, man?”

“I’m as okay as can be. Chill as a cucumber on ice waiting for to be dipped into a drink.”

“Uh…”

“Problem is,” you continue, “I have this feeling I only get when Bro is nearby and unless he’s ironically hiding in a pile of jesters somewhere in your house, not that I’d put it past him, something’s up.”

“Dave, I think you’re just trying to get out of your agreement to watch these movies with me,” John says, giving you a suspicious look.

“I’m being ser—Shit, what was that?”

There was a somewhat loud noise nearby, like a chair being pushed back too fast and scrapping against the floor. 

“It was probably Nanna or Dad, whatever it is you’re totally not hearing,” John says, rolling his eyes.

You don’t say anything, focusing instead on trying to see if you can pick out any other strange noises, but after a good five minutes, there’s nothing. With some reluctance, you try to relax back into the shitty movie and sadly find the attempt successful. Must be tired.

Really tired actually.

“John, something ain’t right.”

Beside you John yawns and ignores you.

You hear something but it seems to be coming from a long way away. You feel thirsty too all of a sudden, but as you reach for your glass of apple juice, it dawns on you. Everything in the world comes to a screeching halt as you -- Dave Strider -- realizes that you are the biggest derp this side of Derpville, population you and John.

“Fuck, bro,” you say, your tongue feeling heavy. “The girls spiked our drinks.”

“Wha?” he slurs sleepily.

“Rose. Jade. The apple juice,” you say, pointing at your glasses on the coffee table that your sisters had been oh-so-super kind to give you before disappearing upstairs.

John’s eyes droop in sleep and fuck, so do yours though you manage to fight them back open, barely. You hear that scraping noise again and see Rose appear in front of you.

“Payback’s a bitch, brother dear,” she says.

FUCK.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reasons why it's not wise to pull a prank on someone with a dark mind and someone else who is really good with science-y things. Just sayin'. XD


	61. John: Wake up in confusion

** >==> John: Wake up in confusion **

_(??? - ???)_

With a small groan, you wake up, finding yourself in a dark room that you guess must be your bedroom even though you don’t remember going to bed. Actually, it takes you a moment to remember anything at all!

As you’re busy trying to remember (there were zombies, in a movie, you’re pretty sure of that much) something shifts besides you on the bed. Now that you think about it, you’re kind of squished on your bed which is weird since it tends to be a perfect space to stretch out on. Shifting yourself, you’re definitely pressed between the wall and something, or better yet, SOMEONE. It’s too dark to see who it is and even if it wasn’t, you’re not wearing your glasses so there’s no way you can see who it is.

Maybe it’s a zombie?

Doubtful since you’d have woken up as a zombie yourself!

Okay, you can rationalize this out. Maybe remembering something before you fell asleep would help? Let’s see, there were zombies… A movie, yeah! You were watching Return of the Living Dead Part 2 downstairs in the living room with… With…? Dammit, why is your head so fuzzy?

Fine, if your memory won’t help you, then it’s time to use your senses! Except for the seeing one, and taste because licking unknown things is stupid, you still have three perfectly functional senses. You can do this! 

Hearing doesn’t offer much else aside from a snort of the someone in the bed beside you. Could it have been Jade? No way, she likes to cling to you in her sleep, that’s why she’s not allowed to sleep with you anymore, because it got a little weird when you both got older. This person is definitely not clinging.

Okay, smelling time! Sniffing the air, you smell… Whatever smell that makes up your room, with a light layer of apple pie hanging over it. Ugh, you’re never having another dumb pie fight in your room ever again. If you want your nose to be helpful in this matter, then maybe pressing it up against the person sleeping beside you would be helpful.

You’re pretty sure that’s almost as bad as trying to lick them. Let’s pass on that option.

Last sense then! Carefully you reach out and prod a finger against the figure beside you. Okay, that is… soft flesh. Is it… Is it Rose? There was one time you shared a bed with her, when you were both fourteen and you got a nasty stomach bug, Rose was the only one that had dared to sit beside you in bed. She read you some stuff from a book she had been reading at the time and you both kind of accidentally fell asleep beside each other. It was nice, but she made you promise you would never breathe a word of it to anyone. It’s extremely doubtful she would have made the same mistake twice and anyway, you weren’t sick last you can remember. Unless you were? Come on memory! :(

All right, so who the hell is beside you if it’s not Jade and probably not Rose?

“I pray to gog that that is someone’s finger or I might actually scream a little right now.”

“DAVE?”

“John?”

For fuck’s sake! You press yourself closer to the wall in a shitty attempt at putting some distance between you and your best bro but the bed’s too small so there’s nowhere to really go. Your memory is finally beginning to come back to you. Dave was watching the zombie movie with you and he had tried to warn you about something but you thought he was being a dick so you ignored him, and then you were really, really tired.

“You gonna snuggle with me properly or just leave me hanging?” Dave asks.

“Shut up,” you say, reaching out and mushing him. Except your hand doesn’t touch his head, it touches his chest instead. 

His naked chest.

Your chest is naked too. WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED!?

Quickly you make sure your shorts are on and thank fuck they are! So hopefully Dave’s are on too, otherwise this has officially gotten too weird for comfort. 

“If you make a comment about that, I swear, I’ll suffocate you with my pillow,” you say.

You can’t even see him but you KNOW Dave has a smug look on his face. Bastard. 

“Sure thing, Egbert. Lemme know when we’re done playing around so I can dry off this water.”

Water?

“What water?” you ask, half convinced Dave is trying to fuck with you.

“Dunno. My hand is wet and so is my lower half.”

There’s a heavy pause as you both come to the same realization at the same time.

“Those two are in so much fucking trouble,” Dave says in a low voice.

“Dave?”

“Yeah?”

“Get the fuck off my bed.”

“Yeah, no problem, bro.”

Getting out of a peed on bed is a bitch when you can’t see a thing and Dave is mumbling an apology from somewhere across the room instead of helping you out of the bed HE PEED ON. This has officially become the grossest sleepover ever.

At least that’s what you think a second before your foot slips on something on the floor and you drop your ass right smack onto the wet spot on the bed.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO  
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO  
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO  
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO  
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”


	62. Rose: Gloat

** >==> Rose: Gloat **

_(October 14th, Sunday – 07:48am)_

The smell of breakfast welcomes you when you emerge from a comfortable and sound slumber. Jade’s already sitting up beside you, yawning and rubbing her eyes as she blindly gropes for her glasses in the space between your sleeping bag and hers.

“Good morning,” you say as you hand them to her.

“G’morning, Rose!”

Far too cheery for having just woken up, you think. Not that you’re unpleasant at the moment, just not filled with much bubbly cheer. Granted, you can’t remember a time you were ever filled with bubbly cheer, which is beside the point. You don’t know anyone but Jade to be this bubbly immediately upon waking.

“Do you think the boys are awake yet?” she asks as you push yourself into a sitting position.

“Most likely. I wouldn’t be surprised if they spent half the night trying to find a way to quietly kill us while we slept.”

Jade giggles. “Bec would never have let that happen!”

“Precisely why it was a good idea to have him keep guard last night,” you point out.

Upon hearing mention of him, Bec pokes his head into the entrance of the blanket fort. Beckoning him to her, Jade embraces him and he barks. Unbelievably, the large dog curls up beside her like a puppy, happy beyond words for his owner’s awakening. He permits you to scratch behind his ears when you reach out to him, licking your palm when you withdraw your hand. Dogs perhaps were not your first choice in pets, but Becquerel was well-mannered and rather sweet as well. It made it easier for you to like him, although you suspected he was well aware of your preference for felines. Not that he seemed to hold it against you, so long as you are nice to him.

Leaving your friend to cuddle with her dog some more, you crawl out of the fort cautiously, expecting your brother or John to be lurking just outside with hatchets or the heavy rolling pins frequently employed by the Egberts in the kitchen. Luckily, neither boy seems to be in the vicinity, though you are only partially convinced that it’s likely because they’re still asleep. Feeling a little more at ease, though still wary, you exit the living room and head to the downstairs bathroom finding it unoccupied. 

Twenty-something minutes later, you’re seated at the kitchen chair, feeling the warmth of a white mug of steaming coffee between your hands. The mug is decorated with a clown juggling which is a bit peculiar, but you’ve learned not to really question the jester and clown décor that filled the house. Mr. Egbert is sitting across from you, chatting adamantly with Jade about Halloween.

“John is insisting again on trying to get us all to dress up like Ghostbusters,” Jade says, rolling her eyes. “But Nanna and I already have costumes picked out!”

“Do you now?” Mr. Egbert says. “And what are two planning to be this year?”

“It’s a surprise!” Nanna Egbert says as she enters the room, a plate of waffles in one hand and a bowl of ice cream in the other.

“Mother, what shenanigans are you planning this year?” Mr. Egbert asks, helping his mother set the plate of waffle in the center of the table. “I do hope you keep yourself out of trouble this year, and the children as well.”

“Hoo hoo! No need to worry, deary! Just some harmless Halloween fun!” she assures her son, casting a wink at Jade before returning to the kitchen.

‘Promise me you’ll keep her out of trouble this year. I think she’s getting a bit too elderly to be running around the city with a fake mustache on, pretending she’s Sherlock Holmes,” Mr. Egbert says to Jade.

Jade laughs, promising she will before shooting a grin at you. You knew what that look meant. It meant Mr. Egbert would be spending Halloween night madly texting every person he knew in hopes of locating his mother and mopping up John’s vomit from eating far too many candies, possibly Dave’s too, again.

You rather look forward to the shenanigans this year promised. Briefly you allow yourself to wonder what Kanaya will be doing for Halloween and quickly dismiss the idea of sitting across from her in a quaint café dressed in a Victorian-style dress while Kanaya wears a Victorian-style tuxedo. Fashion may not be your forte, but you were positive she would look fetching in a cravat, waistcoat, and top hat.

It takes you a moment to realize you’ve become so enraptured by the thought that you failed to notice when John and Dave made their way into the dining room. Filing away your thoughts for later, more intimate, use, you look over the condition of your brother and friend. It takes some self-control to keep the smile that spreads across your face to nothing more than a light, but pleased, smirk. Dave grunts when he sees the smirk making the moment all the more excellent.

“Sleep well?” you ask him as he takes the seat furthest away from you.

“Slept like hell. John made me sleep in the tub because of your little prank, which I know was yours because the glass had Essence de Lalonde all over that shit,” Dave says.

“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you feel well this fine morning?”

“Me? I’m doing swimming this morning. Tricked and betrayed by your own flesh and blood makes a guy wake up feeling just awesome in the morning. Definitely ain’t planning to do any crazy flips off handles, and even if one were planning to do some epic fucking pirouettes, I’m just too damn tired and sore to bother.”

He grabs a waffle and dunks it into a glass of orange juice and takes a groggy bite of it. Ew.

Turning your attention to John, you find his glasses askew on his face, yawning. His father looks him over and shakes his head with a knowing smile on his face.

“Were you boys up all night again?” he asks.

“No dad, we got some sleep,” John answers, looking more like he wanted nothing more than to snooze on the table.

“I heard you boys arguing last night. In the future, keep it down.”

“Sorry dad.”

Mr. Egbert places a hand on John’s shoulder. “It’s fine son, I was your age once too.”

“In a time long, long ago…” Dave mumbles under his breath, taking another bite of orange juice flavored waffle.

Jade, sitting closer to Dave, elbows him in the ribs making him groan miserably. 

“Just finish me off. I don’t think I can take anymore abuse from you flighty broads today,” your brother says.

“Relax Dave,” you say. “The day has only begun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was looking over the time formats over the last few updatess and realized I screwed them up by not writing them in the 24-hour format I started the fic with. I'll be going back to fix them. =P
> 
> Also, this arc/chapter is almost over, so Intermission 2 should be starting within a month's time or less (at least that's my aim). I didn't get a lot of feedback on what to do with it, so I made the executive decision on what it'll be about. =) It'll be awesome, so don't worry. (And what was suggested will likely used in the future of the story!)


	63. Kanaya: Bond with your sister

** >==> Kanaya: Bond with your sister **

_(October 14th, Sunday – 10:48am)_

Mass ended at ten-thirty but you’re still lingering at the church waiting for a lift. Your mother had offered to drop you off for your shift at your relative’s grocery store but you had declined the offer. It was clear to you that your mother held many reservations when it came to your father’s side of the family, though she denied this. 

Truthfully, the topic of your father was a bit taboo in your home. There wasn’t much to say about him really as far as you were concerned. Your mother met him while he was vacationing in Puerto Rico seventeen years ago. She got pregnant with you and he flew her Stateside to marry her, but they clashed much on things, mostly on their separate faiths – your mother was a proud Catholic and your father was a proud Muslim. Both had refused to give up their faith, only overlooking them for the sake of love. Still, your mother tells you that your father, while a caring man, had many issues with his family because your mother had been of a different race and faith which caused much tension in their relationship. 

When your father died when you were four, your mother went back to Puerto Rico so your grandmother could help her raise you. This caused even more friction with your father’s side of the family, namely your uncle and your elder half-sister from your father’s previous marriage. Porrim’s mother had died during childbirth and she was raised mostly by your aunt and uncle who believed your father needed a wife to raise her properly – they definitely hadn't expected your sister to become a pansexual feminism who was not afraid of her sexuality in the very least. Although you remember spending time with her before your father’s death, after he passed you didn’t see her for nearly eight years. That was when your mother had decided to return back to the States in pursuit of opening a fashion boutique with the money your father had left behind. She had squirreled it away, adding to it so she could pursue this dream and felt confident it would succeed.

Your mother had been correct in this belief. She was a talented seamstress and was your primary inspiration for your own clothing creations.

When you turned thirteen, your cousin Kankri invited you to come work at the family’s grocery store. Your other uncle from your father's side had fallen gravely ill and they needed the extra hand, so you agreed. Your mother had not been thrilled by this, but she smiled and congratulated you.

Finally, you spy your sister’s white Chevy turn the corner. She pulls up before you, leaning over and pushing the door open for you despite you being fully capable of opening the door on your own. Sometimes you suspect Porrim tries to make up for all the lost years missed between the two of you and ends up acting more like a second mother to you than a sister.

“You look nice today,” she compliments when you get inside and pull the door closed. 

“Thank you,” you reply, smoothing your green skirt. “I brought a change of clothes to work in, as to prevent Karkat from accidentally tripping on my skirt again.”

“How many has he ripped so far this year alone?” Porrim asks with a wince as she starts up the car. “Six, right?”

“Eight, seven at work and one during dinner with Aunt Raya three months ago,” you sigh, thinking of the time it took to not only make the skirts but also the time it took to then repair them. Karkat didn’t mean to do it, you knew that, but sometimes he goes off on a tirade about something and becomes oblivious to what he’s stepping on until it’s too late. 

“How has everything been since I saw you last Wednesday?”

“About the same as it always is,” you answer dismissively.

“Something interesting must’ve happened to you in the last few days,” Porrim pries.

Biting your lip, you think about Rose. You’ve yet to tell your sister about your interest in the other girl. While you know she would be fine with it, other members of your family might get fussy if they found that the only other next generation female in the family is interested exclusively in the same sex. Porrim had gotten a lot of flack for being pansexual and going against the traditional attempt at an upbringing your aunt and uncle attempted to give her. It was almost certain Porrim would never allow herself to be tied down to anyone, so there was a lot more pressure on you to be ‘normal’.

“What is it?” your sister asks at a redlight. She’s peering at you in concern.

Your resolve breaks, just a bit.

“Friday, I went for a walk with a schoolmate.”

“A boy?” Porrim asks, pierced eyebrow lifting.

“A girl.” You hope that the simple answer is enough to convey the meaning.

It does as the eyebrow lifts higher and a car honks, letting your sister know that the light has turned green. She hits the gas a little too hard when she snaps out of her shock.

“Sorry,” she says.

You shrug in response, unsure what to make of her reaction so far. 

“Is she cute?”

You find your sister smiling at you and there’s a light feeling in your chest you can’t explain. There haven’t been many chances for you to bond with your sister, except maybe over fashion but that felt more like just girl bonding than sister bonding. This felt like sister bonding, and it felt really nice.

“I find her to be quite cute, especially when she’s thinking something over,” you say with a smile.

Porrim laughs. “Sounds like you like her a lot.”

You blush and go back to chewing at your lip, giving a little nod that you hope Porrim catches because you don’t know if you can vocalize that yes, you really like Rose. You had a crush once, back in Puerto Rico, on a girl in your fourth grade class, but you were far too shy to have ever admitted it back then. Plus, there was too much Catholic guilt about the idea of liking someone of the same sex. It wasn’t until you discovered trashy romance novels that you began to get more comfortable with your sexuality.

“I won’t tell,” Porrim says after a long lapse of silence.

She’s driving over the bridge into Brooklyn, allowing you to look out at the Hudson River. It’s beautiful, you think, to see the way the sun glitters off of the water at certain times of the day.

“Thank you, Porrim,” you say quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little rushed tonight so there may be mistakes. =\ (will fix after I get sleep)
> 
> Hope no one minds the sudden splash of background information on Kanaya's odd background. ^^;
> 
> EDIT 7/30/12 -- I made a bunch of dumb mistakes in this chapter but they've since been fixed!


	64. Karkat: Angrily yell at watermelons

** >==> Karkat: Angrily yell at watermelons **

_(October 14th, Sunday – 11:21am)_

There’s a potato in your hand - a whole sack full of them at your feet - and a stack of watermelons in the crate before you threatening to spill over and make your life more of a living hell for the length of time it takes you to clean them up and hear your cousin lecture you about it forever.

The problem currently is that you have to stack the potatoes in the bin next to the watermelons. Only, you have only hand to do it as you use the other to keep the watermelons from spilling over. If you could remove a few of the watermelons and lay them on the floor, at least until you’re finished, this would be a speeder process. However, Kankri refused to allow you to do that when you asked about it several minutes ago. He pointed out that a customer could step on or kick one, plus the floor is a filthy mess that oh yeah, you have to clean up once you’re done with stacking the potatoes. Meanwhile, Kankri went on break after bossing you around.

“Dumb fucking dickweed. Maybe if Porrim and Kanaya decided to grace us with their presence than this would be easier but no, of course not,” you grumble darkly, dropping the potato in your hand into the bin before grabbing another. “Stupid son of a bitch should probably help, but the fucker is all high and mighty as always. Probably thinks he’ll get dirt under his nails which would be a fucking shame wouldn’t it? Don’t want Kankri Vantas with dirt until his fucking nails. Let’s just get the stupid pack mule to do all the shit he could do himself while he goes wank off of in the bathroom. Or wait, he doesn’t wank off, does he? Fucking prude, no wonder he’s so uptight all the gogdamn time.”

It’s a good thing Kankri isn’t around right now to hear you bitching or you’d be subjected to another lecture about saying offensive and possibly triggering things around the customers. You glance around the store and yeah, to no one’s fucking surprise, the place is empty save like three people – you, your aunt Raja, and the one old guy that always wanders in to buy a coffee and stare at the headlines on the newspapers. Your aunt is on the other side of the store, far enough away where you don’t have to worry too much about what you say so long as you keep your voice down. But you’re getting beyond irritated with how long this process is taking you and that will undoubtedly lead you to going off.

Just have to relax, that’s what your uncle is always telling you. Be peaceful and shit. 

And then several things happen all at once and you know you’re going to be in trouble before the second thing even happens.

Three customers enter the store - a mother and two young sons that are about seven and nine. The boys are already bickering about something and you look up only long enough to make sure they’re not going to be trouble for your aunt. The boys’ mother looks exhausted even though it isn’t even noon yet. You wonder whether she’s here to buy a cup of coffee or a bottle of vodka. She opts for the coffee and you go back to work almost disappointed in her.

This is right around where things begin to go wrong. Because you got curious to see what the mother would do, you lost track of her sons who have stopped bickering. One of the little bastards surprises you when you go to reach for another potato from the sack. You’ve been scolded too many times to count for cursing out the customers, so you bite your tongue and retrieve another fucking potato like the good servant you are. He stands a few feet away and quietly watches you toss the potato into the bin. The mother calls out a name and you hope it’s him. However, it’s his brother, and that little fucker is standing behind you when he’s called. 

“COMING!” he shouts really loudly behind you, making you jump.

His brother uses this chance in your lapse of alertness to run by you, full force knocking into you as he goes by. You stumble back two steps, still trying to bite your tongue so you don’t curse him out like he fucking deserves. Unfortunately, this makes you take your hand away from the already precariously perched watermelons. One begins to roll out of the bin and that’s not so bad – except you forgot about the sack of potatoes at your feet as you rush forward to stop the watermelon from falling.

You trip on the sack, falling forward against the bins. One watermelon escapes as you push yourself away, smashing onto the floor. Another goes tumbling to the floor as you stare in annoyance at the first and before you can stop the rest, a third and fourth watermelon fall. You can hear one of the little fuckers giggle and you bite your lip to blood until you hear the door chime as they leave.

Then you promptly lose your shit. All of it.

“YOU GOGDAMN USELESS HEAVY OVALS OF SEEDED DEATH! DUMB FUCKING FRAUDS! THERE’S NO WATER IN YOU! YOU ARE A LIE! A PIECE OF SHITTY SEEDED DEATH LIE! BET THAT DUMB FUCKER IS CRACKING UP RIGHT NOW ON HIS BREAK! HA HA FUCKING HA, LET’S LEAVE LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT KARKAT TO DO ALL THE WORK BY HIMSELF WITH ABSOLUTELY NO HELP WHATSOEVER! MAYBE THE WATERMELONS WILL FALL ON HIM AND HE’LL DROWN IN HIS MISERY FINALLY! I HATE THIS JOB AND WATERMELONS AND KANKRI AND LITTLE KIDS AND PRETTY MUCH EVERY COMBINATION OF THE FOUR!”

The silence that follows actually makes you wince.

Turning around, you find that not only has the mother and her sons not left, but now Porrim and Kanaya are staring at you wide-eyed while your aunt is glaring so hard at you that you can feel the phantom tendrils of death trying to choke you. The old man is still sipping quietly at his coffee while reading the headlines on the newspapers, oblivious to your tirade.

You feel embarrassment burn your cheeks, your white skin going red.

“I’ll get a mop,” you say hastily and make a break for the back room. 

Once there you slump down on a stool and beat your hands against your head because now you’ve done it. Aunt Raja will be so pissed with you and the woman will bitch at your aunt to fire you and your family will disown you for being so gogdamn dumb. You’ll probably have to live with your mother that you barely even know because she more or less abandoned you. It’s doubtful no one in your family even knows where she lives though so you’ll end up in an orphanage or on the streets.

Why are you so DUMB!?

“Karkat.”

It’s hard not to flinch at the sound of your name but a gentle pap to your head makes you look up. Kanaya smiles softly down at you and something about the small gesture makes you feel infinitely better.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Fucking peachy here,” you say, fighting back a strange urge to cry.

“I’m not quite sure what set you off this time but I’m sure you had a good reason for it, not that that excuses your outburst.”

“I know,” you say, hoping it doesn’t sound as miserable as you feel.

“It will be okay,” she says, papping you again. “I will help you clean up as well.”

Nodding your head, you get up and sniffle, knowing Kanaya won’t tease you about it. You tense slightly when she gives you hug, relaxing quickly into it. No one’s really hugged you since your father died several years ago, and you sometimes forget how nice they are.

“Let me just change into more appropriate clothes for work,” she says and moves to step away. A tearing sound fills the air.

“Oh shit,” you say, looking down reluctantly to see you had inadvertently stepped on your cousin’s long skirt when you stood up.

“Sorry.”

Kanaya takes stock of the damage and sighs.

“It’s okay, I can fix it. Again.”

Even though she reassures you that your stupidity is fine, you can’t help the self-loathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back from my two week-ish absence! It's better explained [here](http://nycstuck.tumblr.com/post/56752367615/are-you-ok-computer-troubles-by-the-power-vested-in) at the NYCstuck tumblr. =P
> 
> I promise not to suddenly disappear again. ^^; Sorry.


	65. Terezi: Have lunch with your mom

** >==> Terezi: Have lunch with your mom **

_(October 14th, Sunday – 12:37pm)_

This morning, after a mostly sleepless night, your mother had offered to treat you to lunch as a belated birthday gift. Saying no and crawling back into bed was a tempting idea but not something you normally did. So here you were in your favorite little diner for lunch with your mother, forcing yourself to enjoy the time with her. Not that you didn’t – she works so much that things like this only happen once a week or once every other week so it really did make you happy. 

“I’m sorry I worked so late, and on your birthday.” Your mom sighs before continuing. “How are you feeling today?”

“It’s okay, and tired,” you answer, removing your shades to rub your eyes. You replace them quickly out of habit.

You really are too. You laid in bed more than half the night thinking about Vriska, something you haven’t done in months. It’s frustrating how much time you waste thinking about her sometimes because you know she likely doesn’t waste her time thinking about you, no matter how hard a part of you wants to believe otherwise. Yesterday began another internal debate over whether or not she did, at least maybe once in a while, fueled largely by Latula’s testimony of the events leading up to the random text message from your former best friend. 

“Latula told me about last night,” your mom says not bothering to ease into the topic.

You know she’s sitting in the booth across from you and you can easily picture her leaning forward on her elbows in what you’ve dubbed as an inquisition pose, one of your favorite poses when interrogating your scalemates. Sipping your soda, you nod mildly, honestly not sure what to say. Or rather, you don’t really want to talk about it.

The food comes and you just stare in the general direction of your burger, picking absently at the fries beside it. It takes you a few moments to realize your mother hasn’t touched her food yet either or at least you don’t think so as she’s very quiet. It’s not hard to imagine her looking at you worriedly, lips pressed together in that same way you do when you’re unsure about something. Maybe you base too many actions on your own as well, you think briefly.

“I’m fine, ma,” you say, forcing a smie. “Just got a little worked up about nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. Every time Vriska comes up, Latula tells me how you sulk for days about it. I’ve been considerate long enough to your privacy but it’s really starting to worry me. What happened between the two of you?”

Abandoning your fries, you slump down in your seat. Your mother is a master of body language so while you know your every action counts if you want to ease her mind, you feel strangely beatdown when it comes to talking about Vriska. You never told anyone about what happened last summer, maybe in hopes that not talking about it would make it so it never happened. Unfortunately, you’re not ignorant enough to believe something like that didn’t happen. It hurt to swallow for two days because Vriska’s arm had been pressed so tight against your throat, you didn’t imagine that.

There’s not much you can think of to placate your mother enough to relieve her worries as it is, not that she would believe any lies you said in your current state anyway.

“Vriska didn’t want to be my friend anymore,” you finally say to your mother, the truth slipping out with all the ease of vomit when your stomach is empty.

“You think she was being insincere?”

“Evidence suggests that, yes, she was being insincere when she said it.” You pause, before adding, “She’s not a bad person.”

“No, she’s not. Troubled, but not bad,” your mother agrees.

You pick at your fries again and you hear your mother drink some of her coffee, the cup clicking against the small dish it came on when she sets it down.

“If,” your mother says, “you really care about Vriska then you should tell her so.”

You press your lips together in thought. Of course you’ve told her that but it didn’t make a difference. When you tell your mother this you can hear the jangle of her earrings as she shakes her head.

“Vriska is a troubled, stubborn girl. Proud to a fault. The only way to get her to listen is to make her and that might mean stepping into her shoes a bit and understanding things from her point of view. Have you tried that?”

You open your mouth to say yes, of course you have, but you pause, really thinking about it. When Vriska began distancing herself, she made sure the two of you talked as little as possible. You gave her space when she did this, thinking it was for the best. When she confronted you last year, she more or less just didn’t listen to you and when she did, she argued in her stubborn way. It was like she was sure you would be able to talk her into changing her mind if you had more time to speak to her. That could be a huge presumptuous error on your behalf, but it did give you something to explore. 

It gave you a shred of hope, something you were careful to not admit aloud.

Feeling somewhat better, you finally dig into your food and your mother seems to do the same. When you’re both done, she asks for the check and you both sip at your drinks as you wait for it to come. 

“Did I tell you about Dave?” you say slowly, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Dave?” you mother asks. “No, please tell me who Dave is.”

“He’s a coolkid that likes dressing up like a girl,” you say, laughing giddily at the memory of your conversations. “I think he’s pretty fun.”

“How old is he? Is he from your school? Where does he live at?” Your mother launches into a series of detective quick questions. 

You spend the next fifteen minutes telling your mom about the boy you barely know, because it soothes the pain in your chest that is Vriska. She seems leery of him, probably because you’ve never had a boyfriend before and hadn’t talked about liking a boy since you were in elementary school. Also possibly because you’re sixteen now, not a little kid – the playing field for liking a boy now is much different than when you were a kid. Maybe because you met him on a bridge, who knows with parents?

“I’ll be sure to etch his name onto a bullet, just in case,” your mother says once you’ve both stepped outside.

“It’s not like we’re dating,” you assure her. “We’re just going to hang out, that’s all.”

“Be sure to bring him by the apartment on one of my days off.” Her voice is a bit menacing as she adds, “So I can have a nice talk with him.”

“Dave is cool, ma, and I can protect myself. Don’t worry.”

Your mother still doesn’t seem completely reassured and you laugh, feeling much better.

So long as you don’t think about Vriska, you always feel much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blah, a day late. Sorry. >(


	66. Jeeze, all these sad feelz – let’s check on someone cheery!

** >==> Jeeze, all these sad feelz – let’s check on someone cheery! **

_(October 14th, Sunday – 15:13pm)_

Pounce de Leon is looking at you warily from where she’s perched atop her cat tree. Normally, Pounce is a very good cat and loves to play with you but when you tell her it’s time for a bath, she becomes a bad kitty cat.trg

“Don’t be such a silly furface, Pounce,” you say, approaching her cat tree slowly. “A nice bath will make you all super clean and even more apurrable than before!”

The super fluffy white cat just eyes you with mistrust. It’s a good thing that Equius gave you a pair of thick waterproof leather gloves or it would’ve really hurt when Pounce sinks her teeth into your hand a moment when you suddenly leap forward and grab her off the tree. She doesn’t hiss, but she fusses a lot as you carry her into the bathroom where the tub sits ready to bathe Pounce. Preparing things beforehand has saved you from a lot of headaches, and the less time you spend trying to corral your beloved cat into the tub the more time you get to groom and play with her!

Pounce, unfortunately, doesn’t see it this way. She only sees water, which she hates (and admittedly, so do you to an extent). 

Bracing yourself, you place your cat into the water.

Within five minutes, your sister has joined you in the bathroom, though Meulin only stands silently behind you with a towel at the ready. Three minutes later, you’re handing the cat over to her after a speedy, but thorough, bath. Pounce is hissing at this point, doing her damnedest to get away from you. Once she finds herself in Meulin’s embrace though, she calms down, knowing the worst is over. You breathe a sigh of relief as you slump down onto the closed toilet seat to catch your breath. Meulin rubs Pounce with the towel, wrapping her up in it, before patting your head. Smiling up at her, you accept Pounce from her while she sets to cleaning up the bathroom, which is surprisingly not as bad as it has been in the past after bathing Pounce.

In your room, you set Pounce on the bed, rubbing her one more time with the towel before removing it completely. Giving her a treat, you sit down beside her and begin brushing out her long, white fur, smiling happily as you do so. It always gives you a big sense of accomplishment when you get to pretty up your cat like this. Do you have some scratches to attend to when you’re done? Maybe one or three, but nothing too bad. Like you said earlier, you’re glad Equius gave you thick waterproof gloves for your birthday back in August. They’ve cut down the amount of bathing-your-cat related injuries quite a lot!

Pounce purrs as you brush her, and almost seems to smile when you tie a pretty pink bow around some fur on the top of her head. She looks so purrty! Giving her another treat, you break out your sketchbook and draw Pounce de Leon for the umpteenth million time. Your sketchbooks have become nearly a shrine to your beloved cat with all the drawings you’ve done of her in them. When you auditioned to get into the art program at Troll Irving High School, you were a bit worried that they wouldn’t accept so many cat drawings, but Equius had made you put together a portfolio with some other drawings too. As much as the nice lady that looked at your mainly cat dedicated sketchbook was about your cat drawings, she was really purleased with your portfolio.

You drew Equius a horse as a thank you present. :33 >

Once you’re done drawing Pounce, you curl up with your kitty cat and take a catnap. All is well with the world, at least when you have the bestest kitty cat in the world!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a nice, calm, non-sad feelz filled update, amirite? =) Totally not a lame filler or anything. Nope!
> 
> ((Okay, truth be told, every time I started writing this update, I had a million interruptions so it ended up more meh than I intended. /o\ Sorry!))


	67. That’s a bit too cute. Let’s try for someone a little less cavity-inducing.

** >==> That’s a bit too cute. Let’s try for someone a little less cavity-inducing. **

_(October 14th, Sunday – 15:52pm)_

That fucker. 

You glare hard at your computer screen, knuckles turning white around your mouse. Better relax before you trash another mouse, your family isn’t rolling in dough to support your erratic outbursts all the time. Plus, it’ll be your fourth mouse in the last two months and your father had already warned you about making this one last until at least next month.

Speaking of, there’s a knock at your bedroom door and you glare a final time at the taunting violet text in the game’s chatbox. Fucker, you’ll get him eventually.

“Yeah?” you call.

The door opens, daylight seeping in through the opening like blood pouring from a fresh wound, to reveal your father standing in the doorway. He’s giving you that look again, the one that both says he wishes you would open your heavy blackout curtains for once and that he wishes your mother was still alive because she understood kids a fuckton better than he ever did.

“Sollux,” he says, “I’m going to run down to C-Town for some things for dinner. Do you need anything while I’m out?”

“I’m low on Red Bull,” you answer, shifting your glasses on your nose.

“That’s all?”

You pause, thinking hard for a moment.

“Some graham crackers would be cool.”

He nods, smiling mildly like he usually does. “Keep an ear out for your brother while I’m out, yeah?”

As you begin to nod, you both hear a loud thud from somewhere else in the apartment, followed by a rather loud ‘DAMMIT I FELL’.

Your father sighs. “Were you wearing your helmet at least?”

A pause. “YEAH.”

“Good, then nothing’s broken.” Your father nods at you. “See you in a bit, son.”

He disappears from your doorway but leaves the bedroom door open halfway so presumably you can hear your brother. Truth be told, you could probably hear him if your head was stuck in cement and you were under water. Unless Mituna was going through one of his quiet moments, in which case you should probably go check on him to make sure he wasn’t staring at the nutritional values on the side of a box of cereal, again.

Going back to trying to cremate the fucker online, the same one that enjoys not only taunting you every other moment but somehow manages to beat you eight out of ten games. It’s frustrating to know there is someone better at video games than you are. You could probably hack your way into his computer and plant a badass virus to completely meltdown his system but a part of you would actually miss these repeated duels where he not only puts you down but beats the shit out of you. A part of you craves it for some really fucked up reason that you don’t understand.

Ten minutes into the game, you notice Mituna has come into the room and is standing just behind you, staring at the screen over your shoulder. At least you think he’s staring at the screen, it’s hard to tell with all that hair in his eyes. Sometimes he comes in and watches you play, usually he just quietly watches.

“No man, you gotta shoot the dragon down before running over to the far side of the screen. Letting him live until then only gives him time to charge DICK his gamma ray breath!”

Sometimes he butts in.

“’Tuna, I think I know what I’m doing,” you say impatiently. “If I shoot him right away, I’ll leave myself open to the drones on the ground.”

“Not if you ASSHOLE use the rapid fire gun with the laser beam.”

“That shit sucks.”

“But—

“Shut up, ‘Tuna. The dragon is coming up.”

“Ok, sorry.”

It takes you exactly five point three seconds to realize your brother might’ve been right. Unfortunately, it’s five point three seconds too late to do anything but go with the tactic you had already planned, and well, there’s violet text questioning not only your mental capabilities but if maybe you were dropped headfirst onto concrete as a baby. 

That fucker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, Sollux finally joins the cast! =D
> 
> Mituna has Tourette's, if anyone is wondering. I figured that would be a good way to explain why he's a little more clumsy than some characters. (Tourette's causes muscle spasms, which could be why he would falls so much off his skateboard, yeah? Yeah.)


	68. Fascinating! Now Jade, what are you up to?

** >==> Fascinating! Now Jade, what are you up to? **

_(October 14th, Sunday – 16:21pm)_

“PULL!”

Taking quick and careful aim at the distance, you easily shoot the clay pigeon out of the sky long before it’s reached the apex of its arc through the air. Bec barks as you beam a smile at your grandpa, which he returns in his own gentlemanly way. 

“Excellent job, Jade!” he calls to you from beside the clay pigeon shooter. “I think that’s been a jolly good round of shooting for one day. Let us pack up and head home.”

“Okay, Grandpa!”

Laying your rifle down in its case, you begin putting ammo away along with the remnants of the picnic the three of you had partaken in an hour or so ago. The potato salad tempts Bec’s eye but he remains laying down in the grass by your side. Then without warning, you grab your rifle, whirl around and shoot the clay pigeon your grandpa just launched into the air. He laughs in appraisement.

“Good show, young lass! I thought I was being a sly scalawag but you definitely outfoxed me this time around!”

Hefting the rifle against your shoulder so the barrel is facing up at the sky, you smirk at your grandpa. “I’ve learned from the best!”

“So it would seem!” Grandpa says, helping you load the picnic basket into his jungle green Suburban Jeep. “I only wish John had taken to the fine art of gun-shooting as you did.”

You grimace slightly upon hearing your brother’s name and the word ‘gun-shooting’ in the same sentence. Giving John a gun is as bad as giving a toddler dual wielding pistols. Actually, no. The toddler would probably aim better than John ever could even with the additional difficulty of wielding two guns at once. It would have been really cool if the three of you could go together upstate once a week as you and Grandpa always do and practice shooting. Not that it wasn’t fun as things were! You just wish your brother did more things with you outside of school and hanging with Dave and Rose.

The ride home is pretty quiet, possibly because you gave your grandpa an iPod filled with the ancient and outdated music from the thirties and forties he seems so fond of. Previously, he subjected Bec and yourself to the music, blaring it over the radio for hours without end. It’s been six months of blissful silence however.

Except something was niggling at you and you had to speak to your grandpa about it. Tapping his shoulder and indicating he should turn off his music, you wait until he’s done so before speaking.

“What is it, Jade?” Grandpa asks.

“What do you do when you like someone but you can’t tell whether they like you back?”

A heavy frown creases your grandpa’s brow as he focuses perhaps a bit too strongly on the road ahead as if really seeing the same road he’s driven up and down hundreds of time for the first time. He’s abnormally silent for a good five minutes, maybe more, and you begin to worry when a bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face.

“To be honest, I’ve never been fortunate in the love department,” he finally says. 

He opens his mouth to add more but shakes his head and closes it. Your grandpa is prone to rambling and to hear him not rambling is more than a bit worrisome.

“You should speak with Jane about it,” Grandpa says, slipping his headphones back on and returning to his music.

That was, unexpected. :o

Guess you’ll have to ask Nanna then. You slip a red rubber band around your pinkie finger for a reminder before returning to the rows of trees outside the car, watching as they melt into the distance as Grandpa gets on the freeway and drives home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to some unforeseen events, Thursday update will be pushed to Friday and Sunday we'll be back on schedule.
> 
> ^^; Sorry 'bout that.


	69. Sollux: Chat with Terezi

** >==> Sollux: Chat with Terezi **

_(October 14th, Sunday – 18:06pm)_

Your dad’s lounging in front of the television even though the television is off. He’s not sleeping, just sitting there with his eyes closed and rubbing his temples. He spends most nights like this for as long as you can remember. The doctors say it’s just migraines but for them to be so frequent you can’t help but wonder if it’s something more.

Creeping carefully past the living room, you go into Mituna’s room where your brother and his long-time girlfriend Latula are playing video games, the sound on a medium volume so as not to bother your dad. Even their occasional outbursts or trash talking is at a well-practiced low talk. You drop two cans of Coca-Cola beside Latula and two cartons of Chinese take-out beside them. She thanks you quickly before cheering softly as your brother groans in disappointment.

On the opposite side of the room is Terezi, lying on the floor on her stomach and drawing. You’ve no idea how the hell she manages to draw pictures that are actually fairly comprehensible if somewhat juvenile, or even text, considering she’s blind. Inquiries into the matter have earned you nothing more than laughter, as though the answer was plain as day, which she CAN’T EVEN SEE. 

Setting the remaining two take-out cartons and cans of sodas on the floor, you ball up the bag in your hands and toss it into Mituna’s trashcan. Making yourself comfortable next to Terezi, you wait until she sits up before helping yourself to your carton of chicken chow mein. She pops open her can of soda and you flinch ever so slightly at the memory of her shaking the can and spraying you with it. That was years ago, but a small part of you can’t help but mistrust Terezi with a can of soda.

"Happy belated birthday," you tell her, almost forgetting that yesterday had been her birthday.

"Thanks."

She shoots you an earnest smile and you can’t help smile a little in return. You then dig into your food, hungry.

“What are you drawing?” you ask her between chews.

“A boy in a dress,” she answers, shrugging. 

“Looks more like a dinosaur with a tutu.”

Terezi punches you in the arm and feels around for her carton of take-out. It’s sweet and sour chicken, her favorite.

“So why are you drawing a boy in a dress? Should I watch my back just in case you try to slip one of your sister’s dresses on me or some shit?”

“You wish you could wear one of my sister’s dresses,” Terezi teases, sticking her tongue out.

“Yeah, no thanks,” you snort, opening your own can of soda finally and taking a big swig of it. “Why’re you evading my question?”

“Because it’s dumb?”

“Shit, that burns TZ. You’re the one drawing weird shit but you treat me like I’m the weirdo doing it.”

You pause, studying her for a moment. You’ve known her years and years now – you were maybe six or seven when you first met her. Mituna had begun bringing his then very good friend Latula over a lot back then and one day she brought her little sister along. The two of you got along pretty well so it became a regular thing after that. That wasn’t to say the two of you were exactly close friends, more like brother and sister kind of thing, especially when the two of you got into an argument. Still, you respected each other a lot more than either of you let on.

“What’s up?” you ask, setting your soda and food down.

She pauses, biting her lip. “Nothing’s up.”

“Bullshit, TZ. Tell me what’s up.”

She nods her head in a rough guess of where Latula and Mituna are and shakes her head meaning she didn’t want to speak in front of them. Getting to your feet, you poke her forehead so she knows to get up and follow you. You lead her quietly out of your brother’s room and to your room. 

“All right, it’s just you and me,” you tell her, plopping into your computer chair, “spill it.”

And she does, telling you about Vriska and some Dave kid and what her mom said earlier in the day. When she’s done, Terezi looks miserable and you feel like shit for making her talk about it. Vriska’s been a bit of a sore topic for you because honestly, you didn’t like her. Honestly, you didn’t like most people, but Vriska is high on the list. Mainly because the first time you met her, she punched you in the face and flipped shit when you punched her back.

Still, you knew Terezi had a soft spot for her for some god forsaken reason.

“You try texting her?” you ask, tapping your fingers on the arms of the chair. One, two, one, two.

“She’ll never answer me.”

“Didn’t know you were such a chicken, TZ.”

This succeeds in riling her up.

“I’m not a chicken,” she says, baring her teeth.

Tapping a button on your keyboard wakes your computer up from sleep mode. You open up Pesterchum and several additional windows, quickly writing out some codes until suddenly you’re logged into Pesterchum as arachnidsGrip.

“Prove it then,” you say. “Leave her a message she can’t ignore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right and with this update, we're back on schedule starting Sunday! Phew! Also, this act/chapter is officially winding down and Intermission 2 is VERY SOON! FUCK YEAH! =D I got all the plans man. ALL THE PLANS.
> 
> I'm gonna put up a post on tumblr about this, but an fyi to those of you that follow NYCstuck on tumblr -- I'm slapping new updates with the tag _nycstuck updates_ , so follow it and never be out of the loop! 8D


	70. Vriska: Check your phone

** >==> Vriska: Check your phone **

_(October 14th, Sunday – 19:12pm)_

Pulling your hoodie tighter around your head, you stub out the last of your cigarette on a streetlight post before you cross the street. You’re two blocks from home when you remember you have to shut off your phone before heading inside with your foster mother’s dinner – two Subway sandwiches and an entire Entenmann’s chocolate cake. In your back pocket is a Fruit Roll-up for Casey to take to school with her tomorrow.

Digging your phone out of your pocket, you make a quick check for missed calls (none), new emails (two spam), and a quick sweep through Pesterchum for any hit ups not Terezi involved (non—w8 what’s this?). There’s a message from yourself that you most definitely didn’t write.

AG: YOU M1GHT NOT W4NT TO SP34K TO M3 8UT 1M GO1NG TO SP34K TO YOU  
AG: L1K3 1T OR NOT >]

Did she just…?

On your…?

“Son of a bitch,” you growl under your breath.

This is unexpected and in a rare moment of complete shock, you scramble for something to do, or say. Pausing at the corner of your block, you send Terezi a message to her chumhandle.

AG: You think you’re real funny getting your dum8 hacker friend to mess around with my shit?  
AG: Go fuck yourself.

You then block her from being able to send you a message but before you can even close Pesterchum, a message appears UNDER YOUR CHUMHANDLE.

AG: 8L4H 8L4H 8L4H

Now you’re aggravated. This is about yesterday, you know it is. You knew you should’ve never sent her that fucking text because now she’s going to make you regret it for the rest of your already shitty life. You gear up to write a long-winded way of telling her to drop dead and leave you the fuck alone when another message pops up.

AG: VR1SK4 1M GO1NG TO HUNT YOU DOWN L1K3 TH3 CR1M1N4L YOU 4R3  
AG: 1M COM1NG FOR YOU  
AG: S33 YOU SOON VR1SK4  
AG: >]

With that you get signed out of Pesterchum. You quickly sign back in only to find Terezi’s messages gone from your history. You’re half tempted to believe it didn’t really happen until a >] pops up under your handle but nothing more.

Your fingers feel icy, either from the chill in the air or from the chill racing down your spine, as you unblock Terezi’s handle.

AG: So that’s how you want to play it?  
AG: It’s on then.

Grimacing, you shut off your cell and tuck it into your bra before walking up the block to your apartment building. Upstairs, Casey is the first to see you and she looks surprised.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

You don’t answer her because there are literally no nice words on your tongue and the kid doesn’t deserve your scorn. Actually, your tongue feels heavy and your saliva too thick; there’s a burning in the back of your throat as well. Glancing around quickly, you hand Casey the Fruit Roll-Up, pressing a finger to your lips before heading to your foster mother’s room. You can hear her moving around in the bathroom and see it as the only bright side of the day because all you want to do is pitch a fit and fight with someone. Quietly leaving the bag with her food atop her bed, you slip out of the room.

Casey is nowhere to be seen so she likely went off to her room to hide her treat. Good. You slip out the apartment and head up the stairs to the roof of the building. Once you’re back out in the cold, you tilt your head back and scream in frustration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right guys, that's all the Scourgecest feelz until Intermission 2! Right now it looks like there's two or three updates (I'm not sure yet) left in this act/chapter before it's over and the intermission starts, so rest assure it won't be a long wait! =D


	71. Dave: Spar with yourself

** >==> Dave: Spar with yourself **

_(October 14th, Sunday – 21:43pm)_

Sorta.

 _Shit, it’s cold out_ , you think to yourself as the door to the roof heavily huffs shut behind you. It’s cool though, you’re about to work up a sweat.

You wait a few minutes to make sure the roof is empty and that Bro didn’t hear you slip out of the apartment. Doubtful he did though. He came home about four hours ago, showered for three, then ruffled your hair as a goodnight – he wasn’t going to wake up for another ten hours easy. Once your sweep is done, you make a beeline for the giant air conditioning unit, which you have no idea is there for. It’s unlikely it ever worked, and if ever did, that was probably when it was first installed decades ago, but you’d bet money it’s not even hooked up to the building as the hallways are hot as the sun’s dick during the summer and there’s two ACs in the windows of your apartment to back this up. 

There’s a panel that you’re not sure what it’s for on the top of the unit – weird place for it, you’ve always thought -- and when you pull it open, quietly unlocking the padlock on it first, you reveal a black misshapen heap inside. Dragging it out, you hop to the rooftop before setting it down, and it takes a bit of juggling because the heap is heavy. Finally, you turn it upside down and shake out the item inside.

Out tumbles a small robotic bunny. It lands on its back with a thump and seems to be giving you a glare with its glassy, round eyes. Dumping the bag on the ground, you help stand up the robot and kneel before it. From your back pocket you extract a pair of shades similar to the kind your Bro wears all the time. They are actually yours from when you were an infant – your first pair of shades, to be precise. Who in their right mind puts shades on an infant? To this day you can’t go out on a sunny day without them because your eyes are sensitive from being in shades all the time. thanks bro 

What’s done is done though. You’ve at least finally found a use for these old things. You popped out the original black lenses and put in red ones because red is a kickass color. You hold up the shades so the moon can get a nice glimmer off the red and nod solemnly feeling like a rite of passage of some kind is going down. 

“Ain’t gonna lie, I’m a little sad to see these puppies go,” you say to the robotic rabbit, “but it’s for a good cause. A bunny like you deserves the best, even if you are a little asshole. It’s an ironic gift for an ironic friendship that makes no fucking sense whatsoever but fuck me, here it is in the flesh. Metal… Whatever.”

Reaching for the rabbit’s on switch, you flip it on so the robot can actually hear you.

“It’s with the deepest of sorrow and greatest of manly pride that I bestow upon you these ironic little shades even though you don’t really need them.”

Slipping them on, snapping the rubber band around the back of the rabbit’s head, you wait a moment to see it’s reaction. A robotic paw comes up to feel the shades, for a moment you think it’s going to rip them off and snap them in half, throw them in your face. Instead, the paw drops back to the rabbit’s side and it gives you a silent nod of approval. Fuck yeah. You fist bump the rabbit and stand back up.

“All right then. Let’s get back onto schedule, Huggy.”

From your back, you remove one of your Bro’s shitty cosplay swords and hand it over to the little rabbit. It takes it with ease, the hilt fitting perfectly in its little metal paw as if it was destined to hold it. You’re not sure what the fuck Bro had built this little guy to do, but if it was to fuck shit up with a shitty cosplay sword, A+ work then.

Walking to the opposite side of the roof, you turn and remove the other sword from your back. This one is yours and it’s not a piece of shit cosplay prop, though it’s not a real trufax sword like you wish it were. It’s a kendo sword, made of some of the finest bamboo this side of the Hudson River. Bro enrolled you in Kendo classes five years ago but you’ve only ever been so-so at it. Possibly it’s because you didn’t take it seriously at first – like, what the fuck does a white city boy need with Kendo? But fuck if it didn’t intrigue you. 

Then some bullshit went down and you changed your stance on the whole thing about two years ago. You work harder now, mostly in private, to learn the stances and moves better. You work until your lungs are raw from the cold; throat scrubbed raw from shouting. You work until your arms won’t move upward without tears forming in your eyes. You’ll get this shit down pact if it kills you, but only in private.

Then you’ll be ready.

“Lemme warm up, then we’ll battle up a nice sweat,” you tell Huggy, getting into stance with the sword above your head. 

Sliding your right foot forward, you bring the sword down through the air, barely keeping your back straight. Fuck. You repeat the move, doing better, and shouting, “YA!”

Nearby, the rabbit tilts its head at you, impatience likely growing. _Slave driver _, you think.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SORRY FOR THE DELAYED ABSENCE. I've been in a mixed writer's block/pain pill fog for the last few weeks. Plus internet issues. /o\ 
> 
> But I'm here and not going anywhere again for a while. Sunday will be the final update in this arc of the story, then next Thursday will be the start of Intermission 2! =D And it's gonna be SO GOOD. >D See ya soon!


	72. Gamzee: Catch a motherfucking panic attack

** >==> Gamzee: Catch a motherfucking panic attack **

_(October 14th, Sunday – 22:14pm)_

You yawn, not really tired just kind of bored. Since it’s Sunday night, Tavros had to stay home – one of the few unarguable rules his father has on him. Your boyfriend tends to get real sleepy after eleven at night anyway, even though he makes himself stay up longer for you. Checking your phone for the fourth time in an hour, you see he hasn’t popped up on Pesterchum so he’s probably asleep.

AT: gOOD NIGHT,   
AT: }:O*

That’s the last message from Tavros, dated now an hour and twenty minutes ago. You lean your head back against your mattress, setting the phone on the floor beside you, and throw your arm across your eyes, smudging your facepaint all over the crook of your arm. Without your boyfriend to distract you, your thoughts wander into the darker territories you usually keep them away from when he’s around. 

A part of you wants to smoke some bud, just to keep the noise in your head from becoming a circus of nightmares. Just a puff or three is all it would take, and if you smoked the whole thing and made some mirthful pies afterward what would be the harm? Tavros wouldn’t be happy if he learned though.

A part of you whispers into your ear, telling you the stuff is toxic for your thinkpan anyway, keep it clean from that toxic junk. Let the voices in, embrace their dark messages for they are the way. Forget that miracle bro that keeps holding you back.

In a panic, you snatch up your phone and go to your pictures folder. Four hundred and twenty pictures of Tavros – Tavros sleeping, Tavros smiling and blushing, laughing, eating, hugging Tinkerbull, standing by your graffiti, and even two of him with his shirt off – one while still wet from a shower, his Mohawk nothing but a flop of hair on his head, the other while he’s curled up beside you on the bed, groggy but smiling. As soon as you see them you feel at ease, relaxed.

A motherfucker can make it through the night without bad thoughts with these.

The bedroom door flies open, making you jump and drop the phone in your lap. Your uncle is standing in the doorway, his presence is enough to make grown men flinch, but you smile up at him.

“Hey,” you say. “I didn’t up and hear you come into a motherfucker’s home.”

He grunts. Despite being a lawyer, he’s a man of few words, making his points in short, gruff snips of speech. 

“Kurloz will be home by the end of the motherfucking week,” he says.

Your stomach rolls violently at the sound of your cousin’s name but you keep your face calm. Barely.

“Sounds good, uncle.”

You smile, feeling sick enough to puke into your own lap. Can’t be doing things like that though, not with your uncle watching. No, because the phone is in your lap. Or is because you don’t want to have to clean up the mess? A sweat breaks out on your brow as your mind begins to race, feeling muddled.

To your relief, your uncle nods once and leaves, closing the door behind him. You’re on your feet in seconds and puking into the toilet of your bathroom maybe a second after that. Feels like you fucking flew, you moved so fast. How’d you get here, you briefly wonder as your stomach empties into the toilet. Your knuckles are white on the toilet seat as your body tenses, the sound of your heart too loud – Why is everything so fucking loud!?

By the time you realize you can move, tears have rolled down your face and your arms and hands are sore from gripping the toilet seat; throat raw. You want to scream, run, hide, run forever, but your legs are stuck beneath you and you can only fall back stiffly onto white tiles with purple edges. It’s a long time before you can get your limbs to obey you again and even then you can only crawl back into your bedroom. 

You bypass the phone, grabbing your laptop and flipping it open to reveal your lock screen of a clown juggling burning clubs. Clicking the screen and typing your password – MiRtHfUlMeSsIaH -- you open your video folders and play the first one that your cursor points at. It’s the one from when Tavros and you went to Coney Island. He screams on the Himalaya even though it doesn’t do anything but go round and round, but when he gets off the ride, you kissed him on the mouth, smearing some of your facepaint on his nose. Then the two of you went to get some Nathan’s hot dogs, the video ending with Tavros holding up his hot dog to his mouth sideways to look like he was smiling with it.

You save these videos for the nights when the pictures don’t do the job.

There’s tears running down your face still, but you ignore them, opening the next video – a walk through Central Park with Tavros. Your hands are trembling slightly as you shift the laptop so you can lie down on the floor and watch the rest of the videos, all 50+ of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **END OF CHAPTER 2!**
> 
> /she says 72 updates into fic/
> 
> o.o SO! 72 updates! 65,000+ words! AND WE'RE NOT EVEN CLOSE TO DONE!
> 
> /she says in shock and a tinge of horror, or maybe that's gas?/
> 
> So many people have checked out NYCstuck and fed me loads of awesome love! Thank you! =D I'm glad people have stuck with me so long and to all the newcomers who braved the word count and joined in with the merriment! You all rock! x3
> 
> We still have a ways to go before the end but you guys will stick with me, right? =3 
> 
> /burps - definitely gas before and not horror, woo!/
> 
> See you with the start of Intermission 2 in a few days! =D 
> 
> /goes back to writing like the happy maniac that she is/


	73. [I2P1] Intermission 2, Part 1 COUNTDOWN START!

** >==> [I2P1] Intermission 2, Part 1 START! **

_(November 1st, Thursday – 4am)_

 **== > Gamzee**  
You’re pacing back and forth in your uncle’s apartment, rage burning you up from the inside out. If you could, you’d go back out and beat the first person you saw walking down the street, but you don’t. Can’t. _Stay home_ , he said, _stay home_.

So you listened, despite everything.

There’s a knock at the door and you jerk so hard that you feel something almost tear from the tension built in your neck and arms, but you ignore it as you tear across the floor to the door. Flinging it open, you grit your teeth as the wave of rage becomes a hurricane of screaming voices inside of your head. 

“Motherfucker, what the fuck are doing back here!?” you growl, clenching your fists.

Kurloz smiles gently at you.

“Why cos, ain’t you gonna welcome a motherfucker home? _Welcome home_ , and the like?” he asks, brushing past you.

“Fuck that. You need to be getting up and out of here before a motherfucker loses his shit.”

You follow him into the kitchen where he ducks his head into the fridge and plucks a purple grape from the bowl of grapes on the middle shelf, popping it into his mouth before standing and closing the door.

“I think you forgot that I live here too, cos,” Kurloz says, calmly. Too fucking calmly for your liking.

You punch him, dead in the face, but your cousin just laughs even as a trickle of blood spills out from his nose. He’s still laughing when you knock him to the floor and grab a bottle of wine from your uncle’s wine collection. The voices in your head are howling for blood and you’re eager to appease their hunger as you raise the bottle over your head. The laughter turns hollow as your cousin meets your eye, smiles, and asks, “Whatcha gonna do, cos, kill me?”

You honk once and swing the bottle down.

 

_(November 1st, Thursday – 3am)_

 **== > Rose**  
You find her sleeping, in all places, on the hood of her car. 

“Mom,” you say, shaking her shoulder. “Mom!”

She stirs and blinks groggily at you, squinting slightly. “Rosie? Didn’t I tuck you into bed hours ago?”

“You haven’t tucked me into bed in at least seven years.”

“That’s good then sweetie,” she says and falls back to sleep. Son of a bitch.

You didn’t want to have to resort to it but fuck it. You dump the cup of cold water in your other hand onto your mother’s face. She bolts up, sliding off the hood of the car and crashing unceremoniously onto the garage floor. Her makeup is now running down her face, blonde hair sticking to her forehead, as she takes a moment to get her bearings, then to glare at you.

“Rosie, what the fuck?”

Tired, you sigh and shrug. “I tried to be diplomatic about waking you up but you wouldn’t listen to reason and simple shoulder shaking. The only logic next step I could take was affirmative action in order to capture your attention.”

She frowns at you. “I’m not a country, I’m your mother.”

“Well then, _mom_ , I’m going to bed. You should too,” you say, turning.

This sends your mother into a burst of surprised laughter. You sigh again, wanting the night to end already.

“Did you know that your skirt is ripped in the back and I can see your undies?” your mother asks.

“No, I wasn’t aware. I thought this skirt was supposed to come with a ventilation panel but clearly I was mistaken.”

“Rosie, are you okay?” you mom asks, laughter fading. “I know I’m a lot of things, but I can tell when my daughter is upset.”

You turn back to her, shaking your head. “I’m really just tired. It’s been a long night and I still have to get up in a few hours for school.”

“You could stay home, maybe, if you wanted?” she offers.

You can tell she’s sober and really trying to connect with you but you shake your head. The night’s been far too long for guilt and soppy emotional connections. “No, it’s okay. I just have to lay down now or I’ll never get up later.”

“Okay.”

It takes some doing but you pretend not to hear the hurt edge to your mother’s voice.

 

_(November 1st, Thursday – 2am)_

 **== > Equius**  
“Are you decent?”

There’s a yawn from the other side of the door before Nepeta calls, “Yes!”

You push open your bedroom door and find your best friend curled up on the foot of your bed, clad in one of your tee shirts. It’s so big on her that it looks like the fabric is attempting to swallow her whole when she walks around. Right now, it looks more like a blanket draped over her petite frame. 

“Are you feeling better now that you’ve showered?” you ask.

She smiles up at you and nods, sitting up as you set the tray in your hand down on the chest at the end of your bed. Two cups of tea, a pitcher of milk, a bowl of sugar, and a plate of cookies sit on the brass tray. Sitting on the opposite end of the bed, you help yourself to a cup as Nepeta helps herself to the other. She sniffs the steam, smiling then dumping a generous amount of sugar and milk in the cup. You watch as she nuzzles the cup softly with her cheek and nose before blowing on the tea and finally drinking some.

It’s nice to see her back to normal.

“I think we should discuss what occurred tonight,” you say, sipping your cup of tea (milk only added).

Nepeta makes a face at you, pouting over her cup of tea. 

“Do we have to? I didn’t really do anything wrong.”

“Well no, but you must learn moderation in certain situations. I would not like to have to forbid you from sugar, again.”

She groans. “That was a long time ago! I’m not a little kid anymore!”

“That does not negate my role as your moirail.” You pause, taking a careful sip of your tea. “I only hold your best interests in mind when I forbid you from things.”

Nepeta sets her cup down and sighs, crawling over to you to lean her head on your arm.

“I know,” she says, “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Wrapping an arm around her, gently, you press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Just promise not to scare me like that again,” you say.

“Promise!”

 

_(November 1st, Thursday – 1am)_

 **== > John**  
You’re puking again, this time into the toilet bowl -- Better than earlier when you puked onto the rug in the living room. Inbetween gulps for air you can swear you still hear your dad scrubbing it clean while he sternly lectures his mother about… Blergh… Whatever she’s been up to tonight.

“You gonna puke that lung out or what?” Dave asks from the doorway.

“I’m not really trying to do that but at this point…” You pause as another wave of nausea hits you – it passes without incident. 

“I feel ya, man.”

Dave helps you to your feet and you nod a thanks to him before reaching for some mouth wash. It seems pointless to brush your teeth just yet.

“I’ve been thinking—“ 

You cut Dave off before he can continue.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I was being a jerk earlier.”

He’s silent, but you know he’s studying you. Dave’s been your best bro for long enough for him to know when you’re lying – about what seems to be what he’s currently attempting to figure out.

“How’s your stomach?” Dave asks after some time.

“So-so.”

He helps you back to your room where a small whiff of caramel makes your stomach clench up – no more sugar, ever again. At least for a week or two. Sitting carefully on your bed, you watch Dave claim your computer chair, pulling it up beside you. Taking a seat, he props his socked feet up on your bed and leans back, removing his shades to rub his eyes.

“I kinda feel like you’re holding out something from me, bro.”

You grimace, falling back on your bed to stare up at the ceiling. This is not something you want to handle right now.

“It’s cool to have your own secrets, we’re not married or anything so you don’t have to share all your dark little secrets with me, but it’d be nice to not feel like I did something to offend you or some shit. At least as your best bro you can hint at what’s up, if you want.”

“Dave, it’s not… It’s… Shit. It’s difficult, okay?” Sitting up, you wince as your stomach disagrees with the action. “Tonight was just, I don’t know. Maybe too much candy or something. I didn’t mean to act the way I did. I really didn’t.”

“Boys!” your dad calls from the hallway. “Lights out in five minutes, unless you’re still feeling sick?”

“We’re good, Dad!” you call back to him. Your dad says something else but your nanna’s chuckling drowns it out.

“Guess it’s time for bed,” Dave says. 

Turning his face, he gets up and replaces the computer chair before laying out a quilt on the floor. Everything about this makes you uneasy. You’ll never be able to sleep if you leave things like this.

Managing to get to your feet, you stumble a bit, catching yourself on your nightstand. Despite what happened tonight, Dave gives you a look that can pass for concerned on his face. A part of you wants to reach out and shake him, make this night never happen. If only.

Instead, you excuse yourself to brush your teeth and end up banging your head against the bathroom wall in frustration. You puke once more for good measures.

 

_(November 1st, Thursday – 0:00am)_

**== > Vriska**  
F8CK THIS NIGHT AND EVERYTH8NG EVER!!!!!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I think it's safe to assume everyone's having a bad night! o.o


	74. [I2P2] Intermission 2, Part 2: Much earlier the day before…

** >==> [I2P2] Intermission 2, Part 2: Much earlier the day before… **

_(October 31st, Wednesday – 7:22am)_

“Gamzee,” you call. No movement. 

“Gamzee!” you call a bit louder.

He awakes with a start, his eyes more wild than his hair. You rest your palm against his cheek and wait for him to focus on you. When he does, the wild look disappears, replaced by a tired wariness that is unbecoming of your boyfriend.

“I’ve been trying to wake you up for twenty minutes now,” you say. “We’ll be late for school if you stay in bed any longer.”

He’s silent, nodding, but when you go to push yourself away from the bed, Gamzee grabs your arm. He looks miserable, has looked that way for almost two weeks straight now. 

“Let’s just stay in bed today,” Gamzee says. “Let’s get our motherfucking cuddle on all day long.”

The request sounds so pitiful despite his façade to sound normal – he even manages a small smile that stands out on his unpainted face. 

“It’s too early in the year to be missing school, Gam. Plus, if you want to stay a little longer here, you know you’ll have to go just so my dad won’t get mad or anything.”

It was true that your father had been pretty cool about Gamzee staying at the apartment with you, especially with the reassurance that the two of you had not and were not planning to have sex. But there was only so much your father would be cool with and there was a good chance Gamzee lounging about the apartment or missing unnecessary days of school could upset him. 

And your boyfriend had made it crystal clear he was terrified of being at home while his cousin was there so he’d do anything to stay here.

You try to push out the image of pale face and too large eyes you saw a few weeks ago; the way Gamzee clung to you when he saw you. Kurloz has always been a rough topic for Gamzee and to this day, he refused to say why his cousin scared him so much but there was always a sense of peace in your boyfriend when his cousin was… away.

“Okay, Tavbro,” Gamzee says.

There’s a small frown on his lips as he gets up and gathers clothes for the day. You wheel yourself out of the bedroom to allow your boyfriend space to dress and get cleaned up for the day. Tinkerbull greets you at the fridge, his nose and tongue assaulting your hand when you reach down to pet him.

“Your boyfriend’s going to get jealous if he sees the way Tinkerbull is licking at you.”

Rufioh laughs as he walks by, pausing only long enough to reach down to rub the excited dog behind his ears. Your brother then gives you a playful noogie, ducking out of the way before you can slap his hands away from your, now slightly flat, mohawk. You look up to your big brother quite a lot, but there’s no way you’ll ever reach his level of cool, a fact you lament often in private. 

“Dad said he’ll make an early dinner tonight,” he says, snagging his schoolbag from the kitchen table. “Said to tell you to be home from school early for it before you go trick or treating with Gamzee.”

“We’re not going trick or treating this year,” you say. “Gamzee’s not feeling much in the spirit for it today.”

You pause, setting the carton of orange juice you retrieved from the fridge on the counter.

“What are you going to do tonight?” you ask.

“Damara wants to go to a costume party.”

There’s a small scowl on his face that you don’t need to ask him about. Rufioh’s been trying to break up with his girlfriend for months now but he’s too nice to do it. Or maybe, you secretly think, he’s kind of afraid of what she might do. You’ve only met her twice, but she kind of weirds you out. Though you’re not quite sure why.

Rufioh finally says goodbye and leaves as you down a glass of cold OJ, leaving you to finish setting out breakfast for Gamzee. It’s a few moments before he exits the bathroom, facepaint freshly applied, hair tamed as much he cared to do so. He’s quiet when he sits down in front of the bowl of cereal you laid out for him, silently eating the Lucky Charms with no real interest in them.

“Hey,” you say, touching his free hand. Gamzee’s eyes focus on you. “Tonight we’ll stay in and watch a movie, okay? Maybe play some Fiduspawn while we give candy out to trick or treaters. Today’s supposed to be a fun day so let’s have some fun. O-okay?”

You smile and Gamzee smiles back at you, the first real smile you’ve seen on him in days.

“Sounds bitchtits.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN! x)


	75. [I2P2] Karkat: Grudgingly walk to school

** > [I2P2] ==> Karkat: Grudgingly walk to school **

_(October 31st, Wednesday – 8:27am)_

If there was a day you would rather never go out on, it was today. You hate this dick sucking day so fucking much. It’s not because you’re afraid of it, no. The problem is the stupid pricks that spend most of the day tricking rather than treating. Those are the fuckers that essentially fuck up the day for you.

Plus, tomorrow morning you will be for sure scrubbing egg and candy vomit off the sidewalk in front of your family’s store before going to school, and it will be cold enough that your fingertips will be so fucking numb that you’ll barely be able to swipe your Metrocard to get to school. Fuck your life.

“You look sour as usual,” a voice says.

Oh fuck, yes, this is exactly what you DON’T need to start off this already terrible day.

Vriska’s leaning against a street lamp post just outside of the subway exit/entrance, a burning cigarette hanging from her cerulean colored lips. She’s also apparently embraced the freedom of Halloween and seems to have adopted a pirate theme, a blue bandanna tied to her head and an eyepatch over her left eye. You’re somewhat afraid to see if she’s wearing the rest of the get-up beneath her hoodie, though her jeans would suggest she probably wasn’t.

“Aw, where’s my morning hello?” she asks.

“Probably lying in my pile of fucks-that-I-don’t-give back at home.”

She laughs, the sound mocking. You try to cross the street to get away from it but Vriska keeps up easily with you.

“So what are you doing tonight, Karkat? Moping about as usual?”

“Jegus, if it was any of your business, wouldn’t you know by now?” you snap.

She slaps her hand on the middle of your back, just to piss you off more than you already were, you’re sure of it.

“Poor little Karkat, never changes. He’d rather spend all night rubbing his cousin’s balls than come out and have some fun and adventure like the rest of the kids,” she chides. Her tone is still mocking.

“Fuck off,” you growl, stepping up your pace.

If not for John and Rose at the next corner, you may have tried to run the rest of the way to school. Not that it would’ve deterred Vriska much but it would’ve given you something else to do aside from listening to her bullshit. Instead you’re saved by the grinning dork and his creepy friend, one of which Vriska seems to like and the other that she seems to despise. 

“Hey Karkat! Hey Vriska!” John calls, waving.

Rose nods at you once silently before returning the glare Vriska is not so subtlety shooting at her. You’ve been trying to figure out their deal but so far it just seems that they rub each the wrong way. Not too surprising when things concern Vriska.

“Hey dickweed,” you greet, frowning even more than you already were.

“I was going to ask you later,” John says, “but now seems like a good time to do it.”

“Ask me what?”

“Dave and I are going to go trick-or-treating tonight and I thought it’d be fun if you joined us. If you don’t have other problems?”

You stiffen up slightly. People have asked you to go trick-or-treating before but you normally turn them down because, as stated before, you fucking hate this day. But not only will Vriska take the chance to make another insult about you chowing on your family’s ass, but you like John, surprisingly a lot – as a friend, of course. That doesn’t make your answer any easier.

“I have a shitload of things to do, but I guess I could put them off even longer,” you say. There is an edge to your voice, like you want to shout at the world to prove you aren’t afraid of trick-or-treating like Vriska’s been accusing for years. 

“So that’s a yes?”

“Do I have to fucking spell it out, Egbert? YES!” you shout.

John beams at you. “Awesome! Do you want to join us, Vriska?”

Oh shit. You hadn’t thought he’d honestly be dumb enough to ask HER to come along too. It’s just your luck though, you should’ve expected it. To your surprise however…

“Thanks, Egbert, but I have other fish to fry tonight,” she says.

And she walks off, casually. You know she’s up to something but it’s best not to give two fucks because it’s none of your fucking business. You just hope, silently, that she doesn’t get herself killed.

Not that you care or anything. |:B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting the day started right.


	76. [I2P2] Terezi: Stalk your prey

** > [I2P2] ==> Terezi: Stalk your prey **

_(October 31st, Wednesday – 10:18am)_

While cutting school is in strict violation of the school conduct agreement you signed at the beginning of the school year, you believe today denotes a perfectly excusable reason for your misconduct.

For one thing, there are several juvenile delinquents that you catch with illegally purchased eggs. They think that just because they have the contraband stashed away in the supposed safety of their schoolbags that someone like you – with your keen sense of smell - wouldn’t be aware of it. Foolishly confronting them face-to-face, while a thrilling idea, might draw too much attention to your own delinquent ways.

It, however, is no accident when one of the three boys trips over your walking stick, staggering forward into his friend and flattening the schoolbag with the eggs between their combined weight and the subway wall behind them. You can hear the third cursing as he moves his friends to check the bag, groaning when he finds nothing but a runny mess inside. _Just desserts_ , you think proudly as you board the train.

That was approximately a half hour ago. You’ve since moved on to the true cause of your delinquency – tailing Vriska. Halloween is too much of a felonious temptation to her and you want to be there when she breaks the law. You’re still not entirely sure whether a civilian arrest or breaking her arm would be your punishment if you caught her. You are also blindingly – pun intended - aware of the fact that telling a cop or other law-enforcement official _I SAW her do it!_ would be difficult for them to believe, all things considering.

So maybe you’ll break her arm when the time comes.

Not that want to actually do it, but if kept Vriska out of trouble for a little while then it’d absolutely be considered a public service, and thus, your duty to do it – even if you aren’t quite yet an officer of the law.

Vriska has ducked truancy officers twice in the last half hour but as the morning wears on, they’ll become a bit more scarce, until noon, when they’ll give up trying to catch kids who cut school. If things go well, you will have put her out of commission before then.

Your perp, or prey, depending on who was observing, was currently milling about a bookstore. The smell of books is almost bright on your tongue as you keep yourself no more than an aisle away. It was risky as she could turn a corner too fast and catch you but it was also easy to lose her scent over the books’ scent. Eventually, she leaves the store and moves onto a park – one you recognize from your date with Dave a few weeks ago. 

Union Square Park is small, but not so small that you couldn’t lose someone if you’re not paying attention. Because it’s still so early in the day, there aren’t many people milling about to risk losing your perp’s trail, but enough so that she won’t see you right away. So far, it seems as though she’s ignorant of your presence. When she sits on a bench with - _sniffsniff_ \- an older man, possibly in his mid-forties, you press yourself carefully against the back of a nearby tree and listen intently.

They don’t say anything, but you get the feeling they know each other and that something shady has likely gone down out of your non-existent sight. When he leaves, you trail Vriska to the fenced in dog park at the far end of the park. This confuses you as she doesn’t even like dogs, but the confusion becomes realization when you suddenly lose her scent over the dog scents from the park.

“What the ever-loving fuck is wrong with you?” 

You don’t get a chance to answer before you’re knocked to the ground courtesy of a well-placed sideways kick to your ass. Once on the ground, Vriska grabs one of your arms, the one with the walking stick, and pins it behind your back.

“You don’t think I haven’t noticed you following me around for the last two weeks?” she asks, her voice just short of shouting. “You pull that bullshit on my phone then fucking stalk me – what the hell is wrong with you?”

“Just trying to catch a criminal in action,” you reply.

“Why don’t you mind your business, you little goody two-shoes? Go back to licking swing seats and sneaker bottoms or whatever the fuck you’re into licking nowadays and leave me alone!”

“I get it you know,” you pant. Vriska is digging her boot into your back, the heel pinching your arm.

“What could you possible get, huh? Not a fucking clue, clearly.”

“You act out because you’re having mommy issues. It’s okay, I’m sure she approves of how shitty you’ve turned out.”

The pressure on your back increases and you grit your teeth as the sole of her boot digs into you harder. 

“You’re a bitch, Pyrope. A motherfucking asshole who can’t keep her fucking nose out anyone’s business, that’s why you’re so obsessed with me. I get it too – you’re mom works all of the time and you spend more time alone playing with yourself than going out and making real friends,” Vriska says. “I used to feel sorry for, that’s why I hung out with you so much. You were just a charity case. You’re welcome very much for giving you the company but I want to be left alone now. Got it?”

She screams in surprise when you just barely get your hand twisted around and jab a sewing needle through the cheap material of her boot that isn’t on you. It wasn’t easy having that pinched into your skin, and even harder to get it out place without your other hand, but absolutely worth it. 

As soon as Vriska jumps away, falling onto her ass beside you, you roll yourself up and punch at her with the hand that had been previously trapped beneath you. It’s a shitty punch, but it still hits her in the chin and she curses at you. Because you’re smaller and Vriska is likely grasping both her chin and ankle, you’re able to then tackle her, headbutting her chest in the process. Once you’re on top of her, you grab her left arm, the one that had been holding her chin, and twist it. When she tries to push you away with the other one, you throw your weight down on her leg in hopes of driving the sewing needle deeper into her.

A shout of pain makes you smile.

“Where’s the contraband?” you ask. 

Patting around at her hips to find her pockets is a tricky task as she still tries to push you off but another bounce on her leg makes her howl and you quickly use the distraction to your advantage. Finding nothing in her jeans, you locate the pockets of her hoodie. In there is some wadded paper, possibly money, and a lollipop. Nothing out of the ordinary to be found here, or is there?

“Leave me the fuck alone,” Vriska growls as you grab her other arm. Releasing the first, you slip your hand into the sleeve of her hoodie. She scratches at you but it doesn’t stop you from finding something up her sleeve. 

A small bag – the contraband! 

Yanking it out and rolling the bag through your fingers, you’re a bit disappointed to find it’s nothing more than…

“Are these dice?”

She shoves you hard, knocking you off of her. Snatching the bag out of your hand, she hobbles away a few steps from you, likely in mistrust.

“Yeah, they’re dice. Do you think I do drugs too on top of all the other shit I do?” she asks. 

Though she’s clearly angry, you can just detect a hint of some other emotion in her voice. A tremble where there should be none. 

“I see how it is Pyrope. A poor, broke, foster kid can’t have a few bucks in her pockets unless she’s selling drugs, right? Or maybe using them? Yeah, you totally got my number. I’m the biggest drug addict in the city, bravo to you for finally figuring it out. Forget the fact that I might have HOBBIES like playing Dungeons & Dragons because shitty foster kids like me clearly don’t deserve to have interests or hobbies that aren’t stealing, drugs, and prostitution!”

You open your mouth to reply but Vriska is already stomping away, either forgetting there’s a sewing needle in her ankle or having already taken it out. Standing, you dust off your ass and reconsider your approach to Vriska, feeling guilty. You’re not even sure what she just accused you of is true of your opinion of her or not, and maybe it is though you hadn’t intentionally meant to make it seem that way.

Either way, you feel like you’ve taken a major step back in your progress of fixing shit with Vriska.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How not to win back a friend.


	77. [I2P2] Equius: Deter the sugar fiend

** > [I2P2] ==> Equius: Deter the sugar fiend **

(October 31st, Wednesday - 13:32pm)

For some reason, your history teacher has decided today would be a prime day for the unprofessional act of passing out candy to the class. This makes you worry as Nepeta swipes your share before she even touches her own and seemingly devours all of it in two bites. The problem here is not the theft but the fact that Nepeta is extremely fond of two food groups - meat and sugar.

Unfortunately, she will devour either one as if she was an adult bear about to hibernate for the winter.

With meat, Nepeta became sleepy and sluggish, if consumed in large quantites. However with sugar and her natural energetic nature... It goes without saying that the result is e%tremely bad.

"Nepeta, I do hope you recall my extensive talk to you yesterday," you say as she licks her fingers clean.

Nepeta nods as she drops her hand. "Of course I do. Only a little bit of sugar today."

"Yes, precisely. We do not need a repeat performance of three years ago when you had all of those caramel apples."

She waved her hand dismissively. "I thought it would be okay because of the apples!"

It hadn't been okay. Nepeta's sugar rush-induced vandalism that had followed had been hoof-rific, er, horrific. The two of you were still banned from three bodegas and a McDonalds in Bensonhurst where you lived.

Your best friend was eying the sweets of a fellow classmate, making you scowl. Halloween was always a trying time of the year because of the amount of effort you expelled into monitoring Nepeta. It had been a long time since you got to enjoy it with little worry beyond possibly tainted candy. Perhaps not since you and Vriska had last gone trick-or-treating as children.

At the thought of your cousin, your stomach made an unhappy flip. Vriska had thus far ignored your texts, though it was certain the chumhandle she gave you was legit as her profile gave the name 'Lady Luck', a nickname your aunt often used to refer to herself with. Vriska had taken it up, demanding you called her it for a year straight.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Nepeta's chair scraping backward against the cheap tiling beneath your feet. Her eyes are on the desk beside her where the occupant was leaning over to pick up a fallen item from the floor leaving their candy wide-open for the taking.

"Nepeta, no."

She flinches, stares at the candy for several seconds and sighs heavily as she scoots back into place.

"You may have an alloted amount of pieces later on tonight," you promise.

"I know," she says with a pout.

"Purrhaps," you say slowly so Nepeta would catch the pun, "I'll allot you a handful of extra pieces if you're on good behavior for the rest of the day."

Nepeta perked up.

"Okay!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nepeta on sugar can't be that bad...?
> 
> Long hiatus was long! Sorry! /o\
> 
> Updates will be a bit erratic for a little while. I'm going to be aiming for at least one update a week hopefully until no longer than March when things will hopefully return to normal. *crosses fingers*


End file.
